Days Most Cherished
by Kibeth5
Summary: An offworld civilization is under threat of destruction from an unfamiliar Goa'uld system lord, 'Geb'. The disastrous and emotional chain of events to follow leads Sam and Jack to follow deep feelings that have been brewing for eight whole years...
1. A Debriefing and Concerns

Days Most Cherished 

By Kibeth5/Silver

**Summary**: Set between seasons 8 and 9: S/J. An offworld civilisation is under threat of destruction from an unfamiliar Goa'uld system lord, namedly 'Geb'. Earth immediately offers its assistance, and the disastrous and emotional chain of events to follow leads Sam and Jack to new discoveries—to follow feelings that have been brewing for eight whole years… only it may just be too late.

**Author's Note**: My muse decided it wanted me to write a Stargate story, so here goes. The theme is Sam/Jack (a little later on, at any rate) and so it will become quite romantic and very angst-orientated as things progress. Bear in mind, I'm just going along with the ride; I have yet to see how this story unravels itself. :)

Constructive criticism is always highly appreciated.

Spoilers for season eight's 'Threads'.

* * *

**Chapter 1 – A Debriefing and Concerns**

"It's SG-1, sir."

Jack raised his eyebrows, glancing down at Walter Harriman with both a bemused and an amused frown.

"Y'know, it's so weird to hear folks say that," he said wryly, and tapped his ear as if it was dysfunctional. Absently he looked down at the control desk, bored, and simultaneously fiddled with a spare pen. Why did people need pens when they were surrounded by computers?

"General," prompted the Sergeant.

Jack cocked his head to the side, then blinked and snapped to attention.

"Yes," he acknowledged, nodding. "I agree. Having my favourite team pelted against that iris would so _not_ be good… even if Daniel did win last week's bet." Jack punched the air with his fist. "Dang. I forgot." He sighed in mock defeat and then suddenly looked at Harriman as if he was stupid. "Walter… buddy? You gonna open that iris some time soon?"

"Yes, sir."

Harriman placed his hand flat against the palm-reading device, and as Jack turned on his heel to go greet his ex-team members the shimmering pool that made up the Stargate's incoming wormhole appeared, illuminating the gateroom's familiar concrete walls. The General stood waiting on the foot of the ramp, and grinned broadly as Sam, Daniel and Teal'c emerged from P30-4991, very wet and by the looks of things, very cold.

Very, _very_ cold.

They were absolutely soaked.

"Ah, these are the missions I _don't_ miss."

Smiling, Jack turned to Sam. Her eyebrows were raised in a manner that definitely indicated she wasn't in the mood for his teasing. Her hair was plastered to her forehead and, like Daniel and Teal'c, her clothes were completely drenched.

"Everything all right, Carter?" he asked smugly as she removed her sopping hat.

"Oh, we're just great, sir. Wonderful. " She smiled wryly. "Thanks for noticing."

"Meaning, of course… the mission?"

Sam and Daniel both glared at Jack and his dry sense of humour, whereas Teal'c predictably raised an eyebrow, unphased.

"The planet's climate seemed to provide extremely wet conditions, O'Neill," he informed his friend. "The rain did not stop at all while we were there."

"Yeah…" Jack folded his arms. "Well. I guess we won't be having fish tonight… unless you see me as a cannibal, which I'm… not."

There was a pause as Jack seemed to contemplate this.

"Jack?" said Daniel. He removed his glasses and wiped away the rain with his sleeve. "Thanks for being so obviously considerate… And we're really glad to be back with you and all, don't get me wrong – but, ah…

"But…?" Jack urged with his hand.

"_But_, I think we'd really like to get warm now."

"Yes!" Jack agreed seriously, for he and Sam was beginning to shiver violently. He gestured for them to leave. "Apologies, Daniel. All of you - go ahead and get showered. Briefing's at 1700."

Teal'c bowed his head, and then they were gone.

Jack chewed his lip as they trailed a pool of water out of the embarkation room. Truth be told, he missed these missions very much – a lot more than anyone seemed to realise. 'Maybe next time, Jacko,' he thought to himself as he followed his dripping team, feet heavy with the thought of all the paperwork still untouched on the surface of his desk. Great. That's what he'd be doing for the next hour.

* * *

"Well, they seem strange people really. In some ways the Hetorians seem incredibly advanced – more advanced than we are, if it was to be put into our perspective – but they seem to have a few problems concerning things we as a race conquered long ago. For instance…" Daniel clicked the interactive remote and photographs of one of the villages appeared. "Housing, architecture… They have absolutely no idea how to set up a structure that lasts more than a couple of years! I mean, looking at this alone you'd think them almost primitive."

Jack gazed at the images flashing in a slideshow across the screen, chin in hand. The houses were made of mud, dirt and straw – and he'd seen plenty of those before.

"Daniel," he said lazily, "didn't medieval houses used to look like that?"

"Yes, exactly like that in fact… Why?"

"Well, number one," said Jack, "we used to be like that once, when we were… less primitive than we are now. Two…"

Daniel, Sam and Teal'c looked at him expectantly as he stopped, tongue tied.

"Okay, scrap the two – it doesn't matter." He frowned. "My point is: why are you telling me these people are more advanced than us when we're _obviously_ miles ahead?"

"That's what I was saying, Jack, that it's only in this aspect they seem to have a problem," said Daniel, looking confused. "You weren't listening?"

Jack yawned loudly and covered his mouth with his hand. "What?" he asked.

Daniel closed his eyes in exasperation.

"Oh, right. Yeah, I was listening, why?"

"Never mind. Just… never mind."

Jack pressed his lips together and looked sideways at Daniel, who appeared a little annoyed to say the least. The General opened his mouth to comment, but Sam jumped in instead, and Daniel sat down in his empty seat.

"The Hetorians are highly advanced in terms of medicine, sir. We're not sure, but we think they've discovered a form of antibiotics unknown to us on earth. I brought some back for testing."

"Good. That's good," said Jack, running a hand through his hair and looking around at his former team. "Now, let's cut to the important stuff. Are they able to fight the Goa'uld?"

"From what we determined, sir… no," Sam replied, glancing at Teal'c who sat opposite her.

"No?"

Teal'c inclined his head in agreement. "Their weapons are limited," he told Jack solemnly. "They have not nearly enough to claim a victory in a Goa'uld attack. They would most certainly all die, O'Neill, or otherwise be taken as hosts."

"That would be a cliché," remarked Jack with a smile of grimace. "Not a very pleasant one, albeit, but a cliché nevertheless."

"Sir, they are a big population. We were informed that there are over three hundred villages at least on their side of the planet. The one we visited was the biggest, yes, but it's home to approximately five hundred people. Now, that's a lot."

"They should expand it," said Jack. "Make it into a city."

"Well, we figured that its size is due to the Stargate," said Daniel. "They have a mine under a mountain on the village's outskirts so we think they used it as a means to trade their resources with other planets. They, uh, wouldn't say much about that..."

"Hmm. Secretive bunch, are they?"

"Unfortunately," added Daniel, "the Stargate is the central point."

"That's unfortunate?" asked Jack uncertainly.

Teal'c raised an eyebrow. "If the Goa'uld choose to send jaffa through the gate as well as in ships, the Hetorians would be overrun. They would not have a chance to escape."

"But you told 'em they're comin', right?"

"That is correct," confirmed Teal'c.

"Yi, yi, yi, yi." Sucking in his cheeks, Jack asked, "How'd they react to it?"

"They were unphased, to tell you the truth," answered Sam, shrugging. "Apparently they've never encountered any alien threats before. They've never been afraid, sir; they don't know the meaning of the word. And I don't think they know what they're up against."

"All right. Well, Carter, I suggest you get those antibiotic thingies tested out. In the meantime, we'll contact the Tok'ra, irritate them a little more than is necessary and see if they've got any more vague, unhelpful details concerning this attack. Maybe we can establish when it's meant to _happen_ this time… And, ah, SG-1 can go back in a day or two with the recent updates." Jack stood up and put the lid back on his pen. "How's that sound?"

Daniel shook his head. "I don't think they'll accept any help, Jack."

Reluctantly, Jack slid back into his seat and narrowed his eyes at his friend. "Daniel, you're usually the one saying, 'We can't abandon an unprepared civilisation and leave them at the hands of the Goa'uld'. If they don't want help, it's tough, but they're getting' it whether they wanna co-operate or not."

"Maybe the Goa'uld are after the resources the Hetorians get from their mines," mused Sam thoughtfully. Everyone turned to look at her.

"Yes," teased Jack, smiling, "one can always count on Carter to prolong a debriefing…"

Sam returned his smile. "Sorry, sir."

"Oh, that's okay, Colonel. Daniel… and Teal'c," he added quickly, following an indignant glance from the jaffa, "what do _you_ think they're after?"

Teal'c and Daniel simultaneously opened their mouths to speak, but then Jack raised a finger at the archaeologist and Daniel stopped abruptly.

"Ah!" Jack warned, giving Teal'c a free rein.

"Thank you, O'Neill," said Teal'c, looking uncharacteristically smug as he bowed his head in gratitude.

"Hope it's worth it," grinned Jack, punching the air in front of him.

"I was prepared to say… that I agree with Colonel Carter."

There was a pause as Teal'c leaned back in his chair and, very nonchalantly, smiled. Of course, a follow-up of further words was something that never came with Teal'c. Jack eventually raised his eyebrows and chewed the inside of his cheek, before leaning forward a little on the table. He coughed briefly.

"No elaboration on that… statement, Teal'c?" Jack asked hopefully. "No ands, ifs, buts...therefores?"

Teal'c turned to him, deadly serious. "No."

"Maybes?"

"Indeed not."

"Ah. Well." Jack gestured at their surroundings with his hand, smiling. "The SGC wouldn't be the same without your… _insightful_ contributions, T."

"Thank you, O'Neill. Am I correct in the belief that I should accept such a comment as a compliment?"

Sam looked down at the table as a huge grin spread across her face, whereas Daniel just stared in disbelief.

"Sure. You betcha, Teal'c." Jack stood up, mouth twitching, and looked at his rather put-out archaeologist and friend. "Daniel, for once in your life you've permission to call me tonight if you, like Teal'c, feel the need to… _express_ your opinions concerning the planet Hetora…" He made the mistake of glancing at Sam who immediately looked away again, biting her lip. "But, briefing's over. Time to go home, kids."

"Bye, Jack," said Daniel, quite sarcastically.

With that Jack strolled into his office, intending to grab his truck keys and get the hell outta here. The Simpsons was on TV in less than an hour, and he'd be damned if he was going to miss it for the second time this week.

"Sir?"

Turning around, he found Sam stood in the doorway of his office, leaning on the frame and no longer smiling. He sighed inwardly.

"Carter, look," he began heavily, "if this is about the Hetorians…"

"No, sir, it's nothing like that."

Jack stuffed his keys in his pocket and straightened up.

"Okay, what is it then?"

"I was just wondering," said Sam quietly. "Did Cassie contact the SGC while we were offworld?"

Jack looked at her, troubled. "Something wrong?"

"No… well, yes, actually, sir, but I just…" She swallowed, noticeably - "…wanted to know."

"Close the door," he said after a moment's quiet. She did, and Jack lowered himself into his chair, grimacing as his bad knee objected to the movement. He searched her closely with his eyes.

"Sir?"

"Carter, did you mention to Cassie you had a mission this week?"

Sighing, Sam dropped her gaze, her arms protectively curling around herself. She looked vulnerable, standing there, and something was definitely wrong. It was unnaturally silent in Jack's office.

"Carter," encouraged Jack gently. "I won't bite, if that's what you're worried about."

She exhaled softly then in a half-laugh, half-smile, and glanced at him.

"Not worried, sir."

"Then talk to me."

"Cassie hasn't been the same since Janet… fell." Sam broke off.

"I noticed," Jack very quietly said. "It's understandable, Sam."

"I know that, sir. But it's like… I can't explain it… like she's gone back to being that timid little girl we found hiding in the bushes. She barely speaks. She's really, really clingy. When I'm with her, she won't let me walk away from her, not for a minute. And I don't mind that, but it's – it's a bit of a problem concerning work."

Jack slowly nodded. "She, uh, did call… yesterday. She was asking for you."

"Did you speak to her?" Sam asked anxiously.

"Briefly," replied Jack. "I kinda just told her you'd see her soon." He shrugged helplessly. "Not very good at stuff like that, I'm afraid."

Sam closed her eyes. "I told her I was going offworld, but… I don't know. I keep saying I'll always be there for her, and every time I do I know it's stupid because it's a lie – and I guess this just proves it." She sank down into a chair on the other side of the desk. "I made her a promise and while I still work here, I can't keep it, can I?"

There was a pause. Jack chewed the inside of his cheek, wishing he was better in these situations. Daniel would have been more appropriate, he could comfort Sam without predicament whereas in his own shoes it was a different scenario altogether.

"Listen, Sam," he said finally. "Cassie knows you can't always be available – she knows the nature of your job – and she was just a little upset. That's not your responsibility all the time. You're doing the best you can for her. And she knows you are. That's all that matters." Sam looked at him directly, her wide eyes sheeted with glassy tears. "She knows that, because the person she cares most about in this world is you. One of the reasons she loves you is that you make her feel cared about and wanted."

"That, Carter, deserves a more than a medal. You are making that girl feel loved and if she craves more of it by ringing up and asking for you, it isn't anything to feel guilty about. Believe me when I say, it's a sign of your achievement."

They say in comfortable silence for a few moments as Sam tried to get her emotions into check. When she raised her head, Jack knew she was all right. He stood – as did she – and they crossed to the door.

"Go on," he encouraged, "for cryin' out loud, get back home and relax for a few hours."

She looked at him questioningly.

"In other words, stop worrying," he implored, and she gave a small smile.

"Thank you, sir," she said quietly, and nodded to him. "And goodnight."

"G'night, Carter."

She began to walk away.

"Hey," he called softly.

She swivelled round expectantly. "Sir?"

"Cassie'll be fine," Jack told her. "You've got enough on your plate. Trust me, you don't wanna be adding more weight to your shoulders. Just… bear that in mind."

Sam blinked and nodded.

"Thanks."

Jack was fully aware, as she left the briefing room, that she knew he was talking about the loss of Jacob, which is why he hadn't spelt it out to her. It had been three weeks since the Tokra's death and since the incident itself, she hadn't mentioned it to anyone. Daniel had tried approaching the subject several times; he'd been unsuccessful. As for Jack, he'd left Carter to herself. He'd told her moments before her dad had died that he would always be there for her. As long as she knew that, it was okay.

He'd only try and interfere if he recognised noticeable changes in her mannerisms and her work. True, she'd seemed a little tense lately – perhaps more sensitive, too – and she looked more tired than usual. But for the moment, Jack felt she was handling things in the way she saw best. And by the looks of it she was handling things well. She would be all right, given time.

"_In a way, Selmak gave me the father I never thought I'd know."_

_A moment's pause. He looked at her, troubled. Then…_

"_C'mere."_

_He put his arm around her shoulders and she reached up to take his hand, warm and reassuring. She brushed her thumb over his skin gently; her hand shook with suppressed tremors, but he felt her relax more in his simple hold, and knew that the emotion would have to emerge at some point. Just not yet._

"_Thank you, sir."_

"_For what?" He spoke quietly._

"_For being here for me."_

_Always, Sam._

"_Always," he whispered._

_She looked at him then, softly and gracefully, though there was also warm affection in that gaze. And although she appeared afraid and vulnerable and sad all at once, she was beautiful. Not just her face, but her heart and soul. And she smiled, or tried to, and Jack watched her even though she turned back to her father in the infirmary room, just for a few precious moments. Rarely were they so open with one another, so close. Even though it's what they had wanted for many years, it was only in times of despair they could break down their defences, and find each other there – just there as a steady lifeline._

_And it was the first time he'd told her. He hoped she'd been aware already, but now she knew. He promised, not just to her but to himself, that he would always be there for her; no matter what. And as she glanced at him, afraid, then slipped from his grasp to say goodbye to her father, he decided that it was a promise he intended to keep._

With a small sigh, Jack closed his office door and strode away, ready for home.

* * *

Author's Note: If you like it, look for chapter 2 very soon. And it would be wonderful to know what you think! Good? Bad?


	2. The Tok'ra Arrival

**Author's Note:** Thank you for your kind comments! And look out for some Sam/Jack caring in the third chapter… ;) Please review and tell me what you think.

Spoilers for 'Grace' (although I'm sure if you're a shipper you've seen it by now!). References to 'Abyss' and 'Threads'.

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 2 – The Tok'ra**

Jack was on the phone to Major Davis as the flashing red sirens went off the next day.

"Unscheduled offworld activation!" stated the technician's voice, ringing shrilly down the SGC's corridors. "I repeat, unscheduled offworld activation!"

Cursing, he saved the updated document on his laptop, only half-listening to Davis as he continued to talk about the Pentagon's recommended changes. The officer continued talking, despite the alarm.

And… talked some more.

"Major!" Jack interrupted finally. "Stop! Can I call you back in an hour or two?"

Major Davis said something about it being okay because he was 'needed elsewhere', but Jack wasn't really paying attention.

"Thanks." He slammed the phone on its receiver.

Strolling wide-paced out of his office, he collided with Daniel as they both turned the corner. He winced and grabbed his friend's shoulders to keep him upright.

"For cryin' out loud, Daniel, watch where you're goin'."

"Jack!" greeted Daniel, rubbing his arm. "The Tok'ra are here."

"Oh, for cryin' out loud," the General repeated, and strode to the gateroom, pulling Daniel along with him. "What the hell are they doing here now? They're not supposed to be here till tomorrow…"

It was probably wise that Daniel didn't answer.

"Carter!" Jack called to his 2IC, who stood at the control panel, apparently waiting for him.

"The Tok'ra, sir," she said swiftly.

"Yeah, so I've been told."

They made their way down to the gateroom in which two unfamiliar male Tok'ra were steadily walking down the ramp. Jack tried to meld a polite expression onto his face, but the plain truth was that he really, _really_ wasn't looking forward to this. He despised meetings with the Tok'ra. Perhaps he wasn't very successful, because Sam glanced at him sideways and smirked slightly. God, he adored that smile.

"Colonel?" he enquired, suspiciously. "Something wrong?"

"No, no, sir." She smiled at the Tok'ra as they approached. "It's just nice to see your, um… perpetual _eagerness_ regarding your visitors."

Jack would have commented, but the chance was missed as the two heavily-clad figures approached.

"Fellas!" he greeted jovially, and stepped forward to reluctantly grasp their hands. "Good to see ya!"

"O'Neill," acknowledged the darker-haired man, bowing his head. _Great_, thought Jack, _the snakes are talkin' already_.

"Yeah, hi." He frowned slightly. "I don't believe we've met… but, there again, since you guys seem keen on changing your identities so often…"

"Major Carter," continued the man-snake. "It is good to see you once again."

"You too, Peltoc," smiled Sam. "But it's actually Colonel Carter now."

"Wait," said Jack. "We've met before?"

"Technically, yes, sir," Sam answered, wincing a little bit.

"Uh…" Jack waved his hands in front of his head. "Memory's gone a little blank here…"

"You were unconscious when we met," Peltoc informed him solemnly. "I assisted in your blending with Kanan, before you left the Tok'ra base and became captured by the system lord Ba'al."

"Ah!" He grimaced at the memory and the concept, then became indignant. "But it was Kanan who ran away with my ass and left me to die a thous—"

Sam cleared her throat politely. "Welcome to Earth, Peltoc."

"Yes, it is a great honour," he said, watching Jack perceptively, and gestured to his silent companion. "This is Yan'kash of the Tok'ra. He is young among us, but is responsible for acquiring the information concerning the attack on Hetora."

"It is indeed a great honour to meet you," said Yan'kash quietly.

What was it with the bowing-the-head thing? The jaffa did that, too.

"Yeah, we've heard." He tried not to glance at Sam who he could sense was smiling at his dry reply. "So, folks, let's go get this over with, shall we?"

And five minutes later, along with Daniel and Teal'c, they were sat around the briefing table in a detailed discussion of what needed to be discussed. Being the commander of the base, Jack had, for once, thoroughly listened and had made notes, but he hadn't contributed much. And neither, he noticed, had Sam. On the other hand, Daniel seemed to be covering everything as the Tok'ra provided their information – no-one else even had the chance to even speak.

"OK, so… two months tomorrow, right?" he said eventually to check the date.

"In your measurements of time," said Peltoc, "that is correct."

"You are sure, aren't you?"

"Yes. If we discover otherwise, we shall contact you."

"Thank you," said Jack. "And this system lord's called… what… Geb?"

"Yes."

"What kind of name is that?" muttered Jack, adding to his notes.

Daniel regarded Jack exasperatedly, giving the impression that he'd already explained the meaning of the name. "God of the earth," he provided helpfully. "In Ancient Egypt—"

The General screwed up his face. "All right, I get it!"

For one of the Tok'ra, Peltoc looked mildly uncertain. "Are the Tauri perfectly able to manage relocation in this time?" he asked on the second occasion.

"Yep," Jack grinned arrogantly. "It's not a problem."

"Well, assuming they'll comply, that is," Daniel reminded him.

"Then your offer has not yet been made to them?"

Jack looked to Sam. "Colonel?" he pressed, raising his eyebrows.

"Last time we visited Hetora, we told them of the attack but we didn't say we could do anything about it," Sam explained quickly. "We merely stayed there for a while to learn as much about them as we could."

"I see," Peltoc acknowledged, eyes narrowed in thought.

"_If_ they comply," added Jack with a pointed look at Daniel, "and hopefully they will, we'll begin right away."

"May I enquire as to why the Tauri have been so complacent to aid the Hetorians?" Yan'kash questioned, hands resting on top of one other on the table, and Jack abruptly wrenched his apart as he realised that he mimicked the other's position.

"We believe the Hetorians have the potential to be valuable allies," Sam offered simply. "Their developments in medicine are far beyond our own. We'd really like to learn from them."

"Also," said Teal'c, "limited access to hosts and servants will decrease the power of the remaining system lords."

"So Geb won't become stronger than he already is," cleared Daniel, before sneezing unexpectedly. Yan'kash grimaced slightly at the action. "Ah… excuse me."

"Bless you," said Jack, and turned to the Tok'ra pair and smiled falsely. "Generally, we're just a kind, warm-hearted and helpful race!"

"Indeed." Peltoc rose from his seat slowly. "Yan'kash and I must now return to the Tok'ra base. We will contact you if we receive further details."

"Uh, yeah… just one more thing. Can we depend on the Tok'ra to help us, if this whole mess results in a battle? 'Cause, you know, it might come to that if they don't wanna budge off their planet."

"You can," clarified Peltoc gravely. "Although do not expect great numbers – there are little of us remaining nowadays." He turned to Yan'kash. "Come. We must return."

"Yeah… well, I guess it's see you soon. Daniel, would you escort them to the gateroom?"

Daniel stood and they began to move away, before Peltoc turned back and looked to Sam.

"Colonel Carter," he began, "I offer belated condolences concerning the death of your father. Selmak was close to me. Jacob was also an excellent contribution to the Tok'ra… I only wish some things were not fated to be." He paused. "Alas, it is not so. He must have been a great loss to you."

Sam just nodded, wide eyed. "Yeah," she said quietly. "Thanks."

Peltoc lowered his head and then he and Yan'kash were gone. Jack watched Sam discreetly as she shuffled the notes in her file. She looked pale and miserable, and he was concernedly interested because she hadn't spoken about Jacob to anyone recently. Finally she sighed and got up.

"Carter," he ventured, but she turned round and gave him a look that pleaded with him not to ask if she was all right… not here, in the middle of the base, where she'd hate for all her emotions to be out in the open. With an inward sigh of his own, he lowered his eyes and changed his question. "Can you have the report on the Hetorians done for me by today?"

Her face relaxed with relief. "Yes, sir. I'll get onto it."

"Thanks, Carter."

* * *

It was late afternoon when the thirty-second knock sounded on Jack's office door. Oh, yes, he'd been counting. He hadn't been able to concentrate on anything today. And truth be told, beside the obvious boredom he experienced every single day being crammed up in this tiny room with only his laptop for company, he was worried. About Carter. The distinct impression bouncing back from each corner of his mind like an unstoppable rubber ball was clear, and it corresponded with the sensible idea that the arrival of the Tok'ra had stirred up Sam's emotion to its peak once again. Which was understandable. She was still grieving, after all.

First-hand experience with the father and daughter in the same room had made Jack aware of their close relationship, enhanced since the time Jacob had blended with Selmak, and he also knew, too well, perhaps, the lowest depth of misery someone could reach when they lost someone they cared about. It was not a pleasant place to dwell in. And that was putting it mildly. Okay, a lot of people lost their parents – Jack's own mother had died over ten years ago – but because it was Carter a subtle sadness had lain in his heart since Jacob's death, and it made him angry with himself.

God, he needed to get her out of his head! But that was the main problem – he couldn't. Kerry had split up with him because of the very fact he was distracted by his feelings for Sam, and what annoyed him even more was that he hadn't even cared when she had, because Sam had visited him at his house and tried to explain herself to him – to Jack. She still felt something for him, that much was clear. God only knew why they were so drawn to each other. All _he_ knew was that recently his own feelings had soared significantly. There had been so many times when he'd wanted to simply _tell_ her. He could tell her that he was going to retire with the full intention for them to start a relationship. But, frankly, he was scared of rejection.

He admired Sam's courage for visiting him at his house that day, but she'd thought he was single. The plain truth, no matter how much he hated it, was that she was engaged to the Shanahan guy. Pete. How would she react to a late confession of unrequited love when she was preparing to be married in a few months? And in all honesty, he had no idea he could face watching her walk down that isle. She would look beautiful, he knew. But not for him. Not beautiful for him. The very thought made him sick to his stomach with remorse and regret.

He should have told her years ago.

"Jack?"

Blinking and swivelling his chair round from where he'd been staring blankly at the wall, Jack found Daniel standing in the doorway with his knuckles pressed to the door. Restraining a heavy sign, the General frowned, more to break his misty trance than to show his annoyance at Daniel for interrupting. Daniel accepted that as an invitation and lowered himself to the chair in front of the desk.

Jack's frown turned to a scowl, as he picked up a pen to make it look as though he'd been doing something constructive, and he raised his eyebrows, unenthusiastically asking, "I take it something on my base is amiss?"

"No." Daniel leaned back in the chair, folding his arms over his chest which gave Jack the feeling that he was being thoroughly X-rayed, doing nothing to improve his mood or his patience.

"Okay, well in case you haven't noticed, the commander of the SGC has a heavy workload… so, if you'll excuse him, he'll get on with it in peace." He didn't care that he was being rude, not at the moment when the great Carter-Shanahan wedding played over and over in his mind. Daniel could take it all in his stride, anyway.

When Jack looked up the archaeologist was still sat there. "Daniel, look—" he began.

"Jack, have you seen Sam today? Since the debriefing, I mean."

With a calm gaze disguising the way his fingers twitched the pen nervously, Jack thought for a moment. If this was about Sam, he could use that to his advantage and find out if she was all right, without flaunting his anxiety.

"No, I haven't." He voice was serene and allowed only mild interest. "You?"

"Uh… no." Daniel pushed his glasses up his nose and added, "That's why I'm here."

"Right," Jack agreed, chewing his bottom lip.

There was a short silence.

"Yes…" drawled Jack slowly, acknowledging the conversation break. And then before he could stop himself, words of concern came out of his mouth. "Daniel, d'you get the feeling something's been a little off? I mean, she hasn't exactly been very…" Daniel glanced up at him in surprise and he searched for the right description – "oh, you know… Carter-like, recently."

"Jacob only died three weeks ago," Daniel reminded him quietly. "The memorial service hasn't even happened yet."

"Yeah, I know." He paused. "But if _you_ weren't worried about her, you wouldn't be sat here, would you?"

"Well…"

"There you go," triumphed Jack, grimly. For a moment he played with his fingers on the surface of his desk, wondering why he felt so awkward. Then he took a deep breath. "I mean, when have you ever known Carter _not_ to be in her lab when you need her?"

"Sam? Id say… probably never."

"Mmm."

Daniel frowned. "So you went to see her?"

"Yeah, she wasn't there."

"I gathered," muttered Daniel under his breath. Jack took no notice. "Did you try her quarters?"

"Uh… no!" Jack answered straight away, speaking as though he'd been scalded by the insanity of Daniel's words. "Why would I do that? Obviously she wants to be alone."

"Yes, but being alone isn't exactly the best way to be, even if she thinks it is."

"Did you?" the General countered.

Looking puzzled, Daniel asked, "Did I what?"

"Try her quarters?"

"No, I didn't, but that's not really the point…" He sighed, quickly. "Jack, maybe you should go and see her – just this once."

For a moment Jack merely sat and stared at Daniel with a strange expression written across his face. Always, he'd thought his feelings for Sam had been fairly discreet around the base; but despite how well they knew him, when either Daniel or Teal'c made subtle hints like this, a slight panic wiped every sensible reply from his mind. A memory from the time Sam had been trapped on the Prometheus instantaneously returned to haunt him – the time when Teal'c had hinted that she cared for him as much as he did for her – and oddly, it reminded him of the current situation.

"_All right, what?"_

"_When Colonel Maybourne and yourself were trapped beyond the gateway, Major Carter felt a similar sense of frustration. She despaired at the thought of never seeing you again."_

_Jack's heart soared with that news, raising tiny butterflies of thrill amidst his worry. He was about to ask Teal'c what else she'd said, if anything, when something different proceeded from his mouth instead…_

"_Not you?"_

The past conversation in the locker room still made him cringe, even now. Both Teal'c and Daniel were evidently aware of his and Sam's attraction to one another, and he couldn't help but feel downright uncomfortable. Maybe it was because he knew he wasn't a very respectable man in many aspects; the only thing he truly prided himself on was his dedication to the Air Force. And the fact that he cared for his 2IC in ways he shouldn't, in his eyes, contradicted that.

"I think sometimes she just needs to know you care, Jack," Daniel was saying firmly. "She needs to know we all care, especially now Jacob's gone…"

Ha! Jack thought to himself… well, _he'd_ already done that.

"Hey, hey, hey!" he interrupted. "It's a little difficult, Daniel – she's my 2IC."

"And?"

"And," he emphasised, "I can't exactly wrap her up in my arms and promise her I'll always be there."

Well, he could – in fact, thinking back to when they'd sat together in the observatory room, he already had wrapped her up in his arms and assured her he'd "always" be there – but such knowledge was too personal and private for Daniel's ears, who was nevertheless regarding him as if to say 'why not?'.

Jack returned his gaze sharply.

"She's also your friend," the archaeologist pointed out after a moment. "Don't play stupid, Jack, I know you care about her."

"I—" Jack shook his head. "I don't even know why I'm _having_ this conversation with you. Carter'll be fine. But if you're really that worried, I'll pop by her quarters now and check for you…"

And with that Jack stood, threw his pen down and swiftly crossed to the door, mainly to leave an annoying Daniel and a dangerous conversation behind than to do anything else. But as he stepped out of his office his body seemed to freeze and he abruptly stopped, swirling around and looking nervous.

He pointed his finger at Daniel and with an uncertain, bitter grin, growled, "I cannot believe you coaxed that out of me!"

Daniel smiled nonchalantly. "Coaxed what out of you?"

"Danny," started Jack, "are you sure Sam wouldn't prefer someone—?"

"Nope," replied Daniel, firmly. "It's your call."

With another growl of frustration Jack turned on his heel and strode away.

"Good luck!" called a satisfied voice behind him, and he curled his fists into balls as he thought of all the gruesome things he'd love to do to Daniel right now.

But those thoughts rapidly diminished as his worry for Sam returned, and with a sigh, he ploughed on towards essential-personnel quarters, wishing he knew what he was about to say.


	3. Small Comforts

**Author's Note**: Spoilers for 'Threads' again, I guess.

* * *

**Chapter 3 – Small Comforts**

When General Jack O'Neill rapped on the door with his knuckles, he tried to knock softly. He didn't want to frighten Carter away by inviting her real feelings to emerge in a harsh and formal manner. That certainly wouldn't get him anywhere.

It took a moment for her voice to answer his call from the other side of the door, when the admittance was a simple "Door's open". Not a welcoming "Come in", which he would have liked to hear, but two words that implied she didn't want intruders on her privacy. At the same time, however, she didn't have the will or the strength to stop them. He didn't class himself as an intruder, though – unless he was about to order Sam to break down her walls there and then.

It was something he wasn't going to do.

Jack turned the doorknob and entered quietly, shutting the door behind him. The room was dimly-lit with candles. For a second or two, he was reminded of Teal'c's quarters wherein the surroundings were slightly more familiar than they were here – because he rarely entered Carter's quarters. Usually, he didn't need to; the rest of the time he didn't have the courage to. And he evidently wasn't the only one who realised this.

Sam was sat slouched upon her bed; she looked surprised to see him. Jack was even more surprised to find that her eyes were red and swollen slightly – direct evidence of tears, of sadness. He was surprised that she had permitted someone to enter when her emotions had finally gained control.

His inward battle within lasted for a few quiet moments. Then Jack decided that he wouldn't comment. She knew why she had been crying; she didn't need to be reminded of it as soon as he'd walked through the door. Instead, he stepped forward twice, an action that told her he was here if she wanted him, that he was around, but wasn't going to force his presence upon her.

"Sir," she managed eventually, and struggled to smile. "What, uh… what are you doing here?"

Admittedly, Jack felt a little awkward. However, it couldn't be prevented. He never had been good at situations like this. He always had to strain his mind to institute words to emerge from his mouth… hence why he wasn't a social freak. But he found, for once, that he could stand without having to fold his arms across his chest, which was good because he wanted to appear open to her - not sealed off from her in a hazardous, no-go area. He glanced around, hating to evade her question but unable to answer.

"Candles?" He raised his eyebrows in enquiry and she nodded.

"Helps Teal'c," she pointed out.

"Helps Teal'c to what?" he asked curiously.

Sam tried to smile. These smiles were merely masks melded from a fear of showing weakness, and Jack could see through them in an instant, as if the artist himself had used transparent materials to craft the fixed expressions.

"To relax," Sam told him softly, pushing herself up to sit straighter against the wall.

Jack nodded and gripped the back of one of the wooden chairs at the table. "You finding it difficult to do that?" he said in friendly tones.

"A little," she admitted, leaning her head back. "Recently, that is."

Meeting her gaze, Jack moved round the chair to sit on it instead, and leaned forward on his knees, fingers interlocking. Undoubtedly, it had something to do with her father, but he felt like he should ask anyway to gain a fuller picture of what his quietened 2IC was feeling. "Why?"

"It's nothing," she sighed. "I have these phases sometimes, sir… it's not unusual."

"Maybe you're working too hard," Jack suggested lightly.

Predictably, Sam sent soft objections his way, shaking her head. Jack leaned back in the chair and searched her expression, her posture, her eyes, trying to find any hint of agreement in her features. None there.

"Seriously, Carter," he said, "maybe you should take some leave. You've right about earned it… having saved the world so many times and all…"

"I appreciate your offer, sir, but I'd rather work," Sam told him firmly. He raised his eyebrows, and she paused, but then continued quietly, keeping her eyes fixed on her thighs drawn up in front of her. "If you want the truth, I don't really have a life outside of here anymore… I guess I wouldn't know what to do with 'leave'."

_I don't really have a life outside of here_ _anymore._ She had meant for the words to sound light to his ears, but years of military experience had given Jack the ability to detect hidden things. He could see straight through the solid wall and into the bitter feelings inside.

"You really feel like that?"

"It's pathetic, I know." Sam inhaled deeply and wrapped her arms around herself - as if she felt vulnerable, a target.

"No. It's not," Jack countered kindly. He rose, slowly, and moved to the bed to settle beside her on the mattress. Sam looked at him cautiously, frowning. He heaved a heavy sigh. "But, as always there's a 'but'."

"Sir?"

"Carter, life is what you make of it," he reminded her gently. "Maybe, if you put a little effort into your activities _outside_ the SGC, you'll start to find more things you enjoy. You can build a life." She closed her eyes, and Jack continued. "There must be something important. What about your brother, Mark?"

Sam nodded. "Mark, the kids – they're the only family I have left now." There was a pause, and she glanced away as tears welled up in her eyes. "It's just… I haven't even seen him since my dad…" She stopped and covered her mouth with her hand.

"You don't wanna face him, huh?" said Jack quietly after a moment.

"Yeah." Her voice was small. "Something like that, sir."

Jack reached forward with the motive to comfort and touched her arm simply, just below the cropped, black sleeve at the crook of her elbow. She glanced at him then with a shaky smile, and as if it were natural, enclosed her own palm around his. Their hands interlocked and he briefly squeezed her fingers. Such intimacies were not normally performed between the two – perhaps they weren't permitted, even. But in these moments, when there was a need for support and comfort, it felt right. And lately it seemed there were many of these moments.

"You're not alone," he told her firmly. "I know it feels like it right now, but we're here for you – all of us. We are not gonna let go." There was a silent promise within his words, and he hoped that the soft tone of his voice put it forth to her.

But as she reached up to brusquely wipe away a stray fallen tear, he was struck by another thought as her former words belatedly unravelled to coherence in his mind. _I don't really have a life outside of here_ _anymore. They're the only family I have left now._

What?

She had Pete, for cryin' out loud. Why would she say that? And then something occurred to Jack that almost winded him physically, almost as though an unanticipated staff weapon had knocked him off his determined, forwarding feet. But no… she and Pete were engaged, weren't they? Surely she would have told him if…? There again, she had come to him to confess that she'd had careful second thoughts about the wedding. Jack cursed himself mentally. So much for detecting hidden things.

But if this meant what he thought it meant – what he _hoped_ it meant – he was going to do this properly. Sam was desperately trying to gain emotional control over her tears as they sat with their hands held. Gently, he disentangled their fingers. Before he could stop himself he was lifting an arm to drape it around her shoulders.

"Come here," he murmured, like he had many times before now. And just like she had in those several other moments, she accepted his comfort welcomingly, turning inwards slightly to rest her head against his chest as she leaned into the warmth of his side. Her arm slipped around his waist this time. One tentative hand buried beneath his green shirt-jacket to rest on his blackly cotton-covered stomach. There was a moment's quiet, and then…

"Thank you, sir."

"Déjà vu, Sam," he observed, and she smiled bleakly.

"Seriously," she told him quietly, "I appreciate this."

He nodded a little. Then very tentatively, calmly, mouth open in readiness, he queried, "What about Pete?"

Although he'd be prepared for something like it, the extent to which she stiffened in his hold made him uncomfortable and he carefully shifted to make the most of the support of the wall on his back.

"Pete?" she repeated blankly. Okay, he was a little confused now.

"You just said you don't really have a life when… well, you're engaged."

Sam pulled back from him just a little to meet his gaze. The familiar blue in her eyes seemed faded because they were red and watery, and her cheeks infinitely tear-stained.

"No, sir. I'm not."

Looking at her, frowning, he said, "What?"

"Pete and I broke up two weeks ago. It was me, I – I called off the engagement."

"Ah." Jack entertained the idea of telling her he was sorry but somehow he couldn't bring himself to be so untruthful and false. It would be a lie of the utmost dishonesty and she'd know it. In fact, she'd definitely know it. Instead, he held her more tightly and very gently said, "Things didn't work out then, huh?"

She sighed heavily. "No, things were good. It's just—" She hesitated then, and looked him in the eye. "I couldn't have married him. He – Pete's a good, caring man, and he didn't deserve it, not for one minute – but I… we didn't… he wasn't the right man for me."

"Oh." What it just him, or was his heart beating more rapidly now?

"I'm sorry to make you uncomfortable like this…" she began awkwardly, but he shook his head.

"No, it's fine, really."

"Um, are you and Kerry—?"

"No longer together." He shrugged, indifferent. "Same reason, even though it wasn't quite as serious as the engagement stage."

They both knew as they sat there together that the salient 'reason' behind their recent break-ups referred to one another. Perhaps they were just hiding behind a vague barrier while discreetly trying to convey the truth.

"Oh," Sam said quietly, and winced slightly. "I'm—" She stopped.

"Sorry? Don't be."

She met his eyes steadily. "I – that's what I was about to say, but…"

In the disbelief of the fact that they were actually having this conversation, teetering like apprehensive divers on the edge of discussing their ageless hidden feelings for the other, Jack almost struggled to breathe evenly. It was as though the suffocating water was beckoning to him, trying to pull him forward, but an obvious disallowing force restrained him from jumping in – from exploring the unknown depths. That was where the regulations fit into the metaphoric equation. This new open air and faint acknowledgement between them was both unfamiliar and, at the same time, unfulfilled in the most thwarted way possible.

"But what?" he dared to ask, before hurriedly changing his mind. This wasn't the time or the place for this, especially when Sam was already under enough resolute pressure as it was. "It doesn't matter," he told her quickly. "I understand."

"I am sorry I didn't tell you, sir. About splitting up with Pete."

He couldn't help but feel a little hurt. "Yeah," he said, "why was that?"

"I thought Daniel would say something," she explained. "I thought you knew by now."

Jack chewed the inside of his lip thoughtfully. Surely she could have mentioned it, or something? But then he asked himself what he would have done in her situation. There was no way he would have brought up an awkward topic such as this one – never in a one million light years. For that, she was instantaneously forgiven. Heck, it was Carter: she was forgiven for merely being her.

Besides, he realised, she probably had much more weighing down her mind like a ton of bricks than the bland, insignificant idea of telling her CO about her recent break-up. And obviously, she was still struggling with the change herself.

Very lightly, he rubbed her shoulder. "Don't worry about it," he reassured her. "At least I know now."

For five long minutes they rested in a companionable silence, each wrapped up in their own thoughts… thoughts that were mainly focused on one another. The candles flickered pleasantly and provided a warm, dusky glow that helped maintain the relaxed and affable atmosphere. Jack was infinitely surprised that things were this natural when moments ago, they'd been discussing non-platonic relationships that heavily concerned two other people… well, the endings of their doomed relationships, anyway. Maybe that's why it was affluent and no longer incommodiously tense between them. Now they both definitely knew the other wasn't caught up and confined in a powerful and loving torrent of feelings for somebody else, there was no chance of losing their faint hope of, one day, being together. Crap. Biting his lip, he scolded himself inwardly because his thoughts always strayed one step too far these days. _Much_ too far. Especially these days.

"It's the memorial service on Thursday," suddenly blurted Sam into the placated silence, startling him from his quiet reverie.

He tried to catch a glimpse of her face but once again she was shrouded in the caching, lean curve of his collarbone and shoulder. Using the initiative that she was looking for solace and care in a moment of fear mixed with dread, a fusion that currently brewed more heatedly with reinforced grief, he continued massaging her shoulder in short, rhythmic and soothing motions. She sighed, satisfied and yet so distraught.

"You gonna be okay?" he asked, concerned, and she nodded glumly. "You looked pretty upset when the Tok'ra left…"

"I was just thinking," she confessed softly. "If my dad was still alive, it would've been him stepping through that gate today."

He bit his lip, before saying firmly, "Carter, I'm here as your friend, not your CO, but remember one of the things I've tried to drum into you over the past eight years?" He gingerly reached for the hand draped idly around his waist and held it. "You can't play the 'if' game, no matter what the circumstances are."

"I know," she replied, and sighed dejectedly. "But I still wish he was here."

"Yeah. Me too." Jack paused and in a voice that was mellow and soft to break into her thoughts gently, he persisted quietly, "Jacob loved you, Sam – a lot more than he loved his life with the Tok'ra. Don't tarnish his name by hating the fact that he died. He wanted you to remember his love for you, not your sadness at his death."

The tears returned, shimmering in her wide blue eyes. "How do you know?" she mumbled in a strained voice.

"He told me," Jack admitted simply. "Before he died."

"You two got on pretty well," she said thickly.

"Your dad also made me seal my promise," Jack told her truthfully, surprised at himself for being so open to her. "He told me always to be there for you, and you know what? I will be." A soft pause. "I'm making that a promise. That goes for Daniel and Teal'c, too. No matter what happens, you'll always have us."

Suddenly, Sam's tears fell down her flushed cheeks. He reached up and quickly brushed them away. She knew he was beside her now, for definite – it was all that mattered as he pressed his gentle palm against the side of her face, giving her reassurance – and she smiled gratefully, and closed her eyes.

"I didn't know you cared so much," she whispered. "Until now it's been so awkward and…"

"Sam." The pad of his thumb traced the defined line of her cheekbone, smearing her wet tears. "I always care. I just don't show you enough."

When her response came as a small nod he realised she was probably struggling to compose herself, and so he held her tightly, securely, knowing that at the moment it was the best he could do for her.

He waited for a couple of minutes as the moisture escaped and faded beneath closed eyelids, then offered, "About your brother… you can't have told him yet… about the service, I mean. I was just wondering – do you want me to call him and tell him the details?"

When she replied, she sounded surprised and broken. "You'd do that for me?"

"Yeah. I guess." There was a slight hesitation before he added, softly, "Anything. All you have to do is ask."

"I—" With a gentle squeeze of his hand, she mumbled, "I'd be really, really grateful. There are some things we need to talk about that we can't really discuss on the phone and… Sir, you're being so kind… I really mean it when I say thank you."

"Kind?" he repeated with a snort. "That makes a change, doesn't it?" Before she could respond he glimpsed the clock on the cabinet opposite and grimaced at the timing. "Sam, as much as I wish I could stay here with you, I have a briefing with SG-14 in… oh, one minute?"

"It's fine, sir." She smiled, weakly. "Go."

Reluctantly, they prised their hands apart and Jack removed his arm from her shoulders as Sam sat up and leaned away from his undying support. She looked slightly better, now – although it was even more evident she'd been crying, the dull, lifeless ache in her eyes had cleared a little to show some her usual spark – and he was pleased by the knowledge that he'd been the one to cheer her up, at least slightly.

"Feel any better, Sam?" he asked, and wrapped his left fingers around his right arm in the subconscious hope of maintaining the warmth she'd given him.

"A little," she nodded. "Thank you so much, sir."

"Listen, uh, you doing anything tomorrow afternoon? We're both off. I thought we could…"

Cursing himself as her eyes widened in the genuine disbelief of her CO being utterly spontaneous and asking her out on a date, he hastily explained, "I was planning a little trip to go see Cassie. I thought you might like to tag along?"

"Oh, yeah," she realised, and smiled. "Sure, that'd be great. That'll be a really nice surprise for her, you know. She was telling me the other day that it's been ages since you've seen each other."

He shrugged. "You told me she'd been a little upset lately," he said. "I thought she could do with a friendly face, that's all." Stretching, he got up off the bed, which made a loud creaking sound as his weight shifted. They glanced at each other a bit sheepishly and he nodded to her. "So. You're all right, then, Carter?"

"I will be," she nodded. "I just need some time for it to sink in, that's all. I'll probably feel better after the service on Thursday."

"Look, if you ever need _anyone_ to talk to, morning, noon or night—"

"Thank you."

"Hey," he teased, "I was gonna say go to Teal'c!"

A half-smirk lit up Sam's face and she lowered her eyes.

"Yes," drawled Jack as he crossed to the door, "Teal'c wouldn't exactly make for good talking, would he?"

She raised her eyebrows. "I'd run if I were you, sir – you'll be late for your briefing at the rate you're going."

"Don't worry, I'm gone." After a scramble for the door knob he opened the door and, at the last minute, turned around with soft and deep cocoa-coloured eyes. "I'll speak to you in the morning about tomorrow afternoon, then?"

"Yes, sir." She rolled her eyes and her vague smile brightened a little. "Now go."

"Oh, and Carter? As soon as SG-1's upcoming mission to Hetora is over with, you are taking some leave whether you want it or not. And that involves staying faaar away from that lab of yours."

"Sir—"

But Jack smiled gently, shut the door to her dimly-illuminated quarters and was gone, feeling pleased that that, at least, had been at least a little bit successful.

* * *

Author's Note: Keep reading if you want to see Cassie :)


	4. Desired Impossibility

**Author's Note**: Busy busy busy RL! Just to let you know, this story is unlikely to see another update for at least three and a half weeks—I finally have a job, my prom night is in two days, I'm going out twice to celebrate the end of school life, on Monday I have a college induction day, and the day after that I go on holiday to Majorca for 17 days! It doesn't leave me a lot of writing time! Sorry! But thank you for your kind reviews over the first three chapters. And thanks, Albi, for pointing out my silly spelling mistake:)

* * *

**Chapter 4 – Desired Impossibility**

It was the following morning in the commissary when Daniel found the General picking out a routinely breakfast of oatmeal, again. Ever since the whole weird incident with the timeloop four years ago, he'd noticed that Jack had been loathe to even consider eating fruit loops for breakfast, and today the choice seemed to be limitedly varied between the two cereals… oatmeal and, well, fruit loops. And Jack didn't appear very happy about that, judging by the way he stood with his arms folded giving the commissary lady the glare of death. With a slight shake of his head, Daniel grabbed a tray and came to stand beside him to save the poor woman from further assault.

"I just don't get it!" he was whining without noticing Daniel. "You had more than enough waffles yesterday – and now you don't have _any_? What's wrong with you people?"

She blushed, probably due to the embarrassment of being questioned by the General in front of other SGC personnel, and stammered, "I'm terribly sorry, General O'Neill. If you'd like to speak to the manager—"

"No need," sighed Jack, reluctantly staring down at his cereal and picking up his tray. He flicked his spoon unenthusiastically. "I guess I'll have to make do with oatmeal… again."

"I apologise, General."

"Hey, don't worry about it."

"Ignore him," said Daniel casually, taking a bowl of fruit loops. "He hasn't had his morning coffee yet."

The woman stared at him apprehensively before scurrying quickly away, and Jack looked at Daniel with a prolonged scowl darkening his sharp, lined face.

"Well, hey, Daniel," he chirped. "Good mornin'. How's it goin'?"

"Good, just good." They walked over to a spare table and sat down. "How about you?"

"Oh, y''know, peachy." Jack dug his spoon into his cereal and it emerged with a large sticky lump of oatmeal stuck to the back of it. He suddenly spotted Daniel's breakfast and his scowl deepened at his friend's treachery. "In fact, my only worry is that I'm going to have to review the commissary standards before next week, lest I suffer another bowl of unbearable _fruit loops _again."

Stopping chewing, Daniel stared at Jack. "You're eating oatmeal," he reminded him blandly.

"I know, but it's simply that I hate looking at them," complained the General, gesturing to the other man's bowl with his spoon.

"Well, it is Tuesday, so they'll restock today. Then for the rest of the week you'll be able to eat your waffles to your heart's content…"

Jack grinned boyishly, licking his spoon like a greedy kid, and remarked, "I always wondered why Carter was so tetchy on a Tuesday…" He shrugged as Daniel looked at him both curiously and suspiciously. "No blue jello," he pointed out.

"Oh!" Daniel realised belatedly. "Yeah, she has a thing for that, doesn't she?"

"You've only just noticed?" asked Jack incredulously. "I don't think I've ever seen her have anything else for dessert! Ever."

"Well, apart from when we had Urgo stuck in our heads," smiled Daniel. "We all seemed to enjoy pecan and treacle pie, then."

"Urgo. Don't remind me," came the dry reply. "Funny thing is, I don't even like pecan and treacle pie."

With a brief cough Daniel took a sip of fresh orange and placed it back down on the table, slowly and deliberately. Jack watched his friend's movement with a wary expression, and Daniel knew Jack was aware he was about to bring up a tentative topic. Nevertheless, he plunged ahead; he felt it was way beyond the time for Sam and Jack to receive some forwarding prods of encouragement.

"Speaking of Sam…"

"Here we go," mumbled Jack. "The big lecture on how I'm not nice enough to her."

Rolling his eyes, Daniel queried, "How did it go?"

"Daniel," accused Jack, an edge of warning to his voice, "you make it sound like it was the event of the year."

"Or the event of eight years," muttered Daniel, fixing his friend with a knowing look. He sighed at the combination of denial and admittance in Jack's eyes, watching the two wrestle between what was right and what was wanted, and for once in his life Daniel thought that in their situation, it was best to do what they _wanted_, rather than to follow rules that were sensible but so incredibly baneful.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," said Daniel as he scooped up his loops. "So, did you two talk at all?"

"No, we sat in silence for half an hour."

"Wh—what?"

"Sarcasm, Daniel," drawled Jack. "It's my middle name."

"So it is," agreed the archaeologist gravely. "But seeing that it's you and Sam, that comment actually sounded fairly plausible."

"Hey!" said Jack heatedly. "It's not as though it's always awkward between us. We're friends, colleagues – we get along s'well."

Again, Daniel rolled his eyes, deciding not to mention that it was all the more reason for them to be together. Instead he opted for: "So are you going to tell me if she's all right, Jack, or are just going to keep avoiding my question?"

"The latter, probably," replied Jack indifferently. But when he glanced at Daniel and noticed his friend's annoyance, his face lost its scowl and he sighed; he'd also begun to pick at his food instead of eating it to keep his eyes cast low. "She's okay, Daniel. She just needs a little time to come to terms with it."

"With Jacob?"

"Yeah. But I think it's more than—" Suddenly he stopped mid-sentence as his eyes darted back up to meet Daniel's placid blue gaze. He jabbed his spoon towards him, which was smeared in lumpy, creamy oatmeal. "Why didn't you tell me she'd split up with Pete?"

"Ah…" Daniel shrugged and smirked slightly. "Thought you'd pick up that small token yesterday." Ignoring Jack's glare – a worse death-glare than he'd given the commissary lady – he explained, "Number one, it's none of my business who she wants to tell and who she doesn't…"

"Don't give me that crap, Daniel."

"Number two, I thought it'd be best for Sam to tell you so you two can start being honest with each other."

"She obviously thought you'd tell me," Jack mumbled. "She thought I knew."

"Really? Then I'm glad to see you discussed your relationship potential yesterday."

Jack reddened furiously and hastily glanced around them to check no-one was listening in. "Daniel," he hissed, "will you keep your voice down?" When he'd calmed a little he added quietly, "It wasn't like that at all, and the last thing we need is you of all people spreading rumours around the base. Sam's under enough pressure already as it is without having to deal with meaningless gossip that's actually a load of crap."

His words left a ringing tenseness in the short space between them. For a good few minutes after that they sat in silence. Daniel munched on his cereal loudly and carefully watched Jack stir the cloggy, porridge-like substance around his bowl again and again. He coughed.

"So… it's 'Sam' now, is it?" Daniel's tone was nonchalant.

"Carter, whatever," muttered Jack indifferently, refusing to acknowledge his tiny slip-up with a grimace, and Daniel stifled an amused smile. He opened his mouth to say something teasing before Jack sighed heavily, illustrating that he wasn't as immune to the unfairness of regulations as he let on to be. Okay, maybe he'd better drop it now before he really regretted his words. But as Daniel tried to think up a new topic, Jack was speaking again, his gaze focused on the bottom of his cereal bowl.

"I know you think you know what it was about yesterday, but it wasn't anything to do with the fact that there… might be – that Carter and I could be together now that Pete's out of the picture. She was upset, we were talking about _her_." The General stabbed at his oatmeal sullenly. "And nothing's changed anyway, even if she has split up with Pete."

"Hasn't it?" said Daniel gently, and Jack smiled with disdain.

"Regulations," was the brief – and bitter – explanation.

"Oh." For a moment Daniel watched the varying emotions play across his friend's face. Resentment, regret, doubt. Fear, maybe? He took a deep breath and said quietly, "Do you want my opinion?"

"I don't know. But I think you're about to give it anyway."

Too right, he was. "I can't make the decision for you, Jack, but I think it's time to forget the regulations."

In a sharp, instant movement, Jack's eyes had snapped back to his as if Daniel had wrenched out a gun and was prepared to shoot him.

"Think about it," implored Daniel heavily. "Do you really want to lose her again? What if she meets someone else, like Pete, but goes all the way next time?" Hoping to break his friend's desperate stare, he added softly, "You can't afford to keep waiting for the day you'll be free of the Air Force, Jack. Neither of you can. That could take years."

"So, you're telling me she and I should have a secret affair?" said Jack very slowly.

"No, no I'm not."

Jack dropped his spoon with a clatter and rubbed his temple.

"I just think you should consider it. You, nor Sam, is getting any younger."

"Thanks for the reminder, Daniel," said Jack, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Daniel pushed his bowl away, and suggested lightly, "You could just start by admitting your feelings to each other. At least then she'd be aware."

"Oh, I think the whole Za'tarc incident pretty much covered that, don't you?"

"Suit yourself, Jack," Daniel sighed. Having lost his appetite for fruit loops, he stood up and regarded his friend with a sympathetic expression. "Just remember that, whether it's convenient or not, some things are _meant_ to be."

* * *

By afternoon it was raining lightly. Sam sat by the window in her living room, waiting for her commanding officer to arrive so they could drive to Cassie's house and visit her. Ever since Janet had died, the foreign girl, now eighteen years of age, had been alternating between Sam's home and the home of Janet's friends who worked in the infirmary at the SGC. The arrangement had been convenient because either way Cassie felt comfortable wherever she stayed and the people she lived with knew the truth about her origins. Usually, she stayed at Sam's, and Sam would have been happy to accommodate her all the time if it hadn't been for her regular off world missions. But Cassie had been seventeen when Janet had fallen, still at high school. At the time, she'd also been distraught about her foster mother's death, and because of this, Sam had been reluctant to leave her alone for even short periods of time.

Now, however, over a year had passed since the departure of Janet and she felt Cassie had matured significantly in this time. Lately she'd been a little upset, but Sam had a feeling it was because they hadn't seen as much of one another recently. It was her fault. When she'd started a relationship with Pete he'd become another priority. During this time she hadn't _neglected_ Cassie, but after the initial shock of losing Janet in which they'd become closer than ever, she'd certainly given her more space. It was something she regretted deeply.

But hopefully, she was about to make up for it now. As the year had progressed it had become evident that the younger woman was frustrated with having to constantly shift from home to home whenever one of Sam's missions sprang up. So, Sam was about to propose to Michael and Yvonne, Janet's close friends, that they begun a new arrangement in which Cassie would live in her house for four weeks and then visit the couple for a week or two afterwards, on a set rota. Sam got on with them brilliantly, but as of now she didn't know how they would react to her proposal. They'd grown to be very fond of Cassie. But hopefully they'd understand now that Sam needed to take up the further responsibility that Janet had wished for before she'd been killed.

Sighing, Sam glanced at the clock, noticing that Jack was forty minutes late. The man didn't hold an obvious record for tardiness, but she supposed something at the base was holding him up. She was also a little nervous due to the unusual display of behaviour he'd shown her in her lab earlier that day.

"_Hey, Carter."_

_Shaking her head, Sam dropped the wires she'd been working with and swirled around on her stool. There was no way she could concentrate with General O'Neill in the room – she might as well give up right away. As he stood in the doorway he occupied a small smile, one that showed on his lips and in his dark eyes, although when she smiled at him he shifted uncomfortably and he nervously bit his lip._

"_Hi, sir," Sam greeted. "I was just about to come find you in the commissary – I thought you'd be in there at this time."_

"_I just was," he smiled, pulling his hands out of his pockets and stepping forward. _

"_Oh."_

"_I got here a bit earlier this morning… for a change."_

_She nodded, wondering why he looked so awkward._

"_What'cha workin' on?" he asked then, making conversation. The hands delved back into their fatigue pockets._

"_Something and nothing." God, this reminded her of their old Colonel-Major days when he'd always come and harass her in her lab; something that had decreased in frequency, lately. Who was she kidding? It had decreased since that painful conversation four months ago when she'd shown him her engagement ring, and when his face had turned fixedly stony. Pushing thoughts of Pete far aside, she launched into science-talk – a place that was safe ground for both of them. _

"_Felger's developing a new weapon," she began, and after those few initial words she found herself rambling on, until she realised he really didn't want to hear this now. He was here about this afternoon, wasn't he?_

_Abruptly, she trailed off. "Never mind," she said._

_Jack looked up, puzzled. "Huh?"_

"_Doesn't matter. I got carried away, as usual."_

"_S'okay, Carter." No smile, this time. What was wrong with him? This really wasn't normal, for Jack to be so serious and uncomfortable. Distracted._

"_Sir, is everything okay?" she asked gently. "It's just, you seem a little… distracted. And not in the way that tells me you're bored with my Science-talk."_

"_Uh, no, no, everything's fine, I just…" He sighed in frustration and ran a hand through his hair. "I guess I'm just tired."_

_She smiled sympathetically._

"_Thoughts of work keeping you up, huh?"_

_With a frown and a vague smile, Jack shook his head. "Not thoughts of work, exactly, but it's along those lines, yeah."_

_It wasn't too obvious to her why but Sam suddenly felt a flush of embarrassment, and lowered her eyes as a brief silence ensued._

"_So, still up for visiting Cassie?" he asked more brightly._

"_Sure," she agreed. "What time?"_

_He thought about it for a second, then said, "How about I pick you up at four? Or is that too early?"_

"_No, four sounds fine."_

"_Good," he responded with another smile. "Anyway, it looks like you're busy, and to be honest, I could do with getting on with some work myself." He touched her shoulder briefly, a feather-light contact that was gone before she'd even registered it was there. "I'll see you later."_

"_You too, sir. Bye."_

The doorbell rang. Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. The long, drawn out buzz immediately identified the newly-arrived person as Jack, and she smiled absently and placed her empty coffee mug down on the mantel piece. He always held his finger on for as long as inhumanly possible.

"Hey," he said cheerfully as she swung open the door, and grinned at her.

"Hi," she greeted, returning the expression, stepping outside to lock up the door behind herself. "Thought you'd gotten lost for a minute back there."

"Yeah, about that…" His face darkened and he sighed heavily. "I'm sorry, Carter, I…"

"Whether or not it's work, it doesn't matter," she assured him, as they started making their way down the concrete driveway.

"Work," he told her, visibly relaxing, "but even so, I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it." Smiling his thanks, he opened the truck door and held it ajar for her, and she quickly got in.

A moment or two later they were heading down the roads towards Cassie's second home, talking lightly about work as Jack drove. Apparently SG-8 had encountered their second alien threat in a month and were, once again, only half-assembled due to two of their number lying in the infirmary, severely injured. Jack had had to file the mission report instantly to save a Pentagon investigation. Sam noticed that he looked a bit tired, but he definitely seemed more relaxed than he'd been in the morning.

"D'you ever regret becoming a General now?" she asked lightly, after politely declining his offer of sweets. "I mean, you seem to get so much hassle."

He seemed to consider her question with some thoughts as he chewed his sweet. "I don't regret it as such, Carter. One thing I've learnt in life is never to dwell on the past, so there isn't really anything to regret. It's pretty stressful from time to time, like when you've got all these officers under your command and they come back injured… but in the evening I just go home, crack open a beer and relax." He looked sideways at her thoughtfully. "But there are pros, too… it's kinda nice to be referred to as 'General' when that rank reminds you of people you've looked up to your whole life. Another pro is that _you_ finally have your own command."

She couldn't help but smile. "You know I could never replace your role on SG-1, sir."

"Carter, you're doing a damn fine job, just like you've always done," he boosted firmly, and glanced at her perceptively. There was a comfortable pause. With a significantly softened voice, he remarked, "You seem better today, Sam – more relaxed about things."

She looked away, smiling sadly, the pain of her bitter emotions regarding her father's death rising afresh. "I think I have you to thank for that," she admitted quietly. "You have a way of cheering me up, somehow."

He nodded and focused his gaze on the road ahead. "I phoned Mark earlier," he informed her. "He can make it on Thursday. The kids, too."

She regarded him warily. "What did he say?"

"Nothing much," confessed Jack. "He just said thanks for letting him know and for the address. Then he asked about you."

"He, uh – I didn't tell him about splitting up with Pete, but I think he'll know by now. He won't have been pleased."

"Right," agreed Jack, indicating left. "They're friends, right?"

"Yeah." Sam didn't miss the crease that stretched across Jack's brow.

"Well, there's nothing much you can do, Carter," he said seriously. "It's not up to your brother who you want to have a relationship with, is it?"

"I guess not," she admitted with a frown of her own, and sighed. "Thanks for phoning him, sir – it's a huge help, believe me."

Jack shook his head as he reached for a second sweet. "Carter! If I hear another 'thank you' come out of your mouth this week, I'll turn nuts. I've told you already… it's not a problem."

She nodded, smiling weakly. For the remainder of the journey she leaned against the car door and watched as they drove past gardens dotted with tall, draping trees lining the fences, which to her whizzed by as fast as the last eventful eight years at the SGC had done. She found it unbelievable that she'd been attracted to Jack for such a long stretch of time and she still hadn't properly told him. She'd tried, not without huge difficulty, but bad luck had always generated a sufficient interruption at crucial points in their conversations; and they'd never talked in more than quiet hints and tiny suggestions because of it.

Jack was silent, too. She wished just for a private second that she could reach over and squeeze his hand to earn herself the smallest of Jack O'Neill smiles. But she didn't… of course she didn't. They could only stretch that boundary when the other was in need, like yesterday. And even then they weren't supposed to be involved so closely. Their situation resembled incorrect resistive force. All the time their desires were pushing forward, straining to reach their peak; but the constant weight withstanding them made things difficult and frustrating. Impossible, even.

Or was it impossible?

For the fiftieth time since he'd visited her in her quarters the previous day, she imagined she was again revelling in the memory of the warm hand tracing the features of her face; soothing her, comforting her. Telling her that he cared. _Showing_ he cared. She'd wanted to kiss him so badly: kiss him gently to convey similar feelings and allow him to touch her forever. Just one of those soft caresses could make the risk worth the livening take, even when it left her imagining further sensations induced from a touch continued – a touch that was elemental, rawer and deliciously intimate.

"Carter, you with me?"

"Wh—what?" she stammered, flushing, and whipped back around to face the sole object of her desire. Confusion wavered in the General's eyes at her sudden unease, and Sam ignored the heat hissing the disallowed confession in her cheeks and tried again. "I'm sorry, sir. I must have been miles away."

A pause ensued, in which his confused look was slowly replaced by a secretive twinkle of amusement. "Don't worry, Carter," he assured her dryly, the corner of his mouth tugged upwards by a small, invisible force. "I'm sure your thoughts were _far_ more satisfying than whatever I had to say."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked boldly, folding her arms and wondering if she could blush any more brightly than she currently was doing. The silent communication and the messages they could read from one another were useful in the midst of a battlefield, but in situations like this, the skill happened to be a fatal flaw of character.

"Oh, nothing," Jack replied then with an air of innocence, and grinned to himself in that boyish, cocky manner of his. With a sigh, Sam uncrossed her arms.

"What were you saying?" she asked seriously.

"I thought we could take Cassie out for a bite to eat?" suggested Jack, and shrugged casually. "That is, if she wants to."

She winced at his offer. "Uh – actually…"

"Actually…?" he asked suspiciously, scowling playfully. "Don't worry, Carter, I won't take you anywhere poisonous."

"Oh, no! I don't mean that!" she corrected quickly. "It's a great idea, sir, but, uh… I have a few things to discuss with Michael and Yvonne."

"Ah! Parental responsibilities, right?"

"That's right," she smiled. "Although, seeing as though you offered, sir, it would be better if she was out for a while so we had the opportunity to talk…"

"Hey!" Jack smirked as he pulled up outside Michael and Yvonne's house on their road, and said, "You're presuming she's in. How'd you know she's not out tonight?"

"I called her yesterday."

"Oh." He looked indignant at Sam's amusement of his failure to see the obvious. "What? When I was Cass's age I spent my time lapping up all the attention from the girls. It makes sense for her to do the same… with the guys, of course," he added hastily, switching off the engine.

Sam raised an eyebrow. "_All_ the attention?"

"Hell, yeah."

"Really. Bet you were a right cocky teenager," Sam remarked wryly.

"Oh, come on, Carter," grinned Jack. "You can hardly deny my highly irresistible good looks, even for an old guy."

"I—" Oh God, why was she blushing _again_?

But Jack's grin merely broadened, and without another word he pushed open the truck door and jumped out. After shaking her head disbelievingly she followed.

* * *

"Sam!" Cassie exclaimed as she opened the door. A huge, genuine smile lit up her face and the two women quickly shared a welcoming hug.

"Hey, sweetie," said Sam, pulling back as Cassie noticed her other visitor standing behind her first.

"Jack! Oh my God, hi! I haven't seen you for—"

"Ages," Jack grinned, stepping forward. "Yeah, I know." He looked surprised as Cassie happily moved forward and wrapped her arms around him, too, and Sam smiled as she watched him react by enveloping her in a big, smouldering bear hug.

"I thought you were too old for this!" he told her honestly, holding her tightly. "What if someone sees you? Your boyfriend's not around, is he?"

Grinning, Cassie tugged away from him. "Jack, do you really think I'm that much of an average teenager?" she said as she led he and Sam inside.

Jack spared a glance at Sam and replied, "Actually, from all the stories Sam's told me, yes, I do."

Sam barely noticed Cassie roll her eyes – and told herself to get a grip as she realised her heart was beating more quickly because Jack had referred to her by her first name. Pulling herself away from any thought of him, she turned to Janet's adopted daughter as she took them into the kitchen.

"How are you, Cass? We didn't really have a chance to talk last night, did we?"

Cassie brushed the enquiry aside with a brief "I'm fine", before scurrying upstairs to find Michael and Yvonne. Jack smiled at Sam.

"So," he said, "what's on the discussion agenda?"

"I wanted to ask them whether Cassie can live with me permanently," she informed him quietly. "Or, at least, more often than she does now."

"Ouch," muttered Jack, screwing up his face.

She smiled tightly. "Yeah, I know. But I think she'd be more settled this way – well, depending on what she wants."

"You want me to tell her?"

"It's up to you, sir, really. She'll find out anyway, so…" Ceasing her talk, she turned round at the sound of footsteps and grinned in greeting. "Hi, Michael."

"Sam! It's great to see you again." The rounded, smiling man moved forward and shook her hand, then turned to Jack who was stood by the table rather awkwardly. "General O'Neill. Good to see you too, sir."

Jack grinned. "Michael," he acknowledged, nodding.

"Yvonne's out at the moment, but I take it you came to see Cass?"

"Yeah. General O'Neill was wondering if he could take her out for a bite to eat," announced Sam as Cassie emerged again, looking at Jack.

"If you're not doing anything," Jack put in quickly, hands in pockets and shrugging. He smiled at Cassie invitingly.

"That'd be great, Jack!" exclaimed Cassie. "It'll give us a chance to catch up!"

Sam smiled. "You two go ahead, then. I need to talk to Michael for a bit."

"Give me two minutes," Cassie insisted apologetically, before disappearing to her room, and she returned a moment later with her hair brushed, a denim jacket slung around her shoulders and casual shoes on her feet. "Where we going?"

"Oh, nowhere special." He stood up straighter and started to move out of the kitchen. "Thought I'd let you decide," he smiled, and lightly touched Sam's elbow as he passed her. "See you in a little while, Sam," he said quietly.

"See you later, then," Michael beamed.

"Don't get her into any trouble, sir," Sam reminded him sternly, and he merely waved a hand in dismissal.

Cassie called her goodbyes and then the pair had closed the front door behind them.

"So," Jack said to Cassie as soon as they were outside, "you like steak?"


	5. Jacob's Last Goodbye

**Author's Note**: I found some writing time after all… guess I spoke too soon, huh? I know there's a lot of emotional stuff going on at the moment, but there is definitely some action coming up, as well as some (probably rather pitiful) attempts at mild humour… But I'm afraid that, after tomorrow, I'm gone. ;)

* * *

**Chapter 5 – Jacob's Last Goodbye**

"O'Malley's," Jack read from the menu, "the best in the world for steak."

Since they'd arrived ten minutes ago and ordered their drinks, Cassie hadn't stopped gazing around the restaurant in awe. "You know," she said in wonder, picking up a beer mat and turning it around in her fingers, "I've never actually been here before."

Jack snapped the menu shut and looked at her in amusement. "You've never been to O'Malley's?" he asked in disbelief. "No way."

"Yes way," she admitted, grabbing his menu off him. "So, what should I have?"

"Cass," grinned Jack, sipping his drink, "you can't come to O'Malley's and _not_ have steak. Like they say, it's the best in the world."

"Jack," she objected, highly indignant, "I'm a vegetarian!"

Choking on his drink, he looked at her incredulously. "You're a what?"

"Veg-et-ar-ian." She smiled. "You know, a non-meat eater?"

"Oh, crap," remarked Jack and rolled his eyes. "I can see I'm going to have to convert you." He narrowed his eyes in mock-disgrace. "No, seriously. You really don't eat meat?"

"Really," she told him. "Not for about a year. Michael and Yvonne don't eat it, you see."

Jack shrugged and considered it. "Makes sense," he agreed thoughtfully. "I mean, I haven't held one of my famous barbeques for about a year, have I? I guess I wouldn't know."

Cassie just grinned.

Shaking his head, Jack disgustedly said, "So this summer I'll have to do _veggie_ burgers on my barbeque? You're kidding."

"Seeing as though you offered, yes," said Cassie happily, and pointed at a dish described in fancy, looping text on the menu. "As for now, I think I'll have vegetable lasagne."

"Wait a minute!" frowned Jack, waving his hand, and the waiter came over to their table, pen in hand. "You told me outside your house that you _liked_ steak!"

"You're a bit slow, aren't you?" she giggled teasingly. "I was only kidding then, because I knew if I said 'yes' you'd bring me here."

"May I take your order, sir?"

Jack turned to the waiter. "Ah, yes, we'll have one medium steak with everything and one, ah… vegetable lasagne. Thanks."

The waiter scribbled down their orders, smiled and turned away, and Jack frowned again at Cassie. "But if you don't eat steak, why _would_ you want to come here?"

To his surprise, the young woman lowered her eyes and intently stared at the beer mat. When she eventually spoke, it was quietly.

"Mom used to come here with you," she confessed, and it took a moment for Jack to realise she was talking about Janet. "She liked socialising, and this was your favourite place, wasn't it?"

"Ah, yes," admitted Jack, feeling awkward at the highly-emotional atmosphere. Although, that was partly why he'd offered to take Cassie out, wasn't it? To see how she was coping. "Still is, really," he said with an encouraging smile.

Cassie looked up with a new sparkle in her eye and grinned. Even though he continued to smile back, Jack was confused at her seemingly quick recovery.

"But you, Sam and Daniel were always really nervous because you're barred."

Jack glanced around anxiously. "Okay, okay!" he hushed, holding up a hand. "Don't say it too loud, they'll recognise me and kick us out."

"Did you really knock the group of men out cold?" Cassie questioned with admiration.

"Might'a done," confessed Jack, nodding, and added hastily, "but we're not proud of it, and we did, uh, have an advantage…" He lowered his voice. "Did Janet tell you about the armbands?"

"Oh, yeah. She told me everything," she said, sipping her drink. As she lowered her glass to the table with a small clunk she sighed and swirled the lemon round with her finger, before confiding softly, "I miss her."

For a moment, Jack watched her as she miserably sat staring at her drink. Then he took a deep, silent breath and quickly squeezed the teenager's hand where it rested heavily agaisnt the table surface.

"We all do," he offered simply. "Your mom was the best doctor ever, and a good friend."

"The best mom, too," mumbled Cassie, sadly. "Sometimes I just wish you could turn back time and warn people of what's about to happen."

"I know," he said. Thinking of Charlie, he couldn't have agreed with her more. "But instead of lingering on what could have been, you just have to focus on the good memories. And I know you and Janet had a lot of those."

Cassie smiled vaguely through her sadness. "Definitely a lot."

"What about you?" said Jack, then. "How are you doing lately? Because I know grief from the death of someone you've loved never really goes away, does it?"

Swallowing away tears and appearing stronger than Jack had ever felt the year following Charlie's death, she inhaled deeply. "I'm okay," she answered in a slightly strained voice. "I get a little upset still sometimes – I feel lonely – but then I think of all the people I still have in my life and I feel lucky." She smiled again. "I have you and Michael and Yvonne… Daniel, Teal'c… my friends… and then there's Sam, too, and she's been wonderful."

"That's because she is wonderful," Jack pointed out brightly before he realised what he'd said and coughed briefly. "I mean, a wonderful guardian to you."

It was as if someone had animated Cassie's face and changed her expressions to warm and mischievous, and she casually took a gulp of soda.

"I'm glad she and Pete split up," she divulged with him, serious but happy, and added, "finally."

Jack didn't really know what to say to that, so took another silent sip of his drink.

"What did you think of him?" she queried poignantly.

"I, uh—" He smiled nervously. "It's not really my place to say; I only really met him once…"

"You know, my mom and I used to stay up till about two in the morning discussing you and Sam," Cassie continued as if he hadn't spoken.

"Really?" said Jack. "That's… nice." Oh crap, he really needed to stir this conversation into a different direction. "You know, Cass, Sam has a new proposal for you."

"Ha, mom was right!" Cassie gave a huge laugh. "You are such a subject changer, Jack!"

But Jack ignored her, and soon after that, the food arrived. Why was it lately that he was getting so much unconcerned and casualhassle about Carter?

* * *

And so it was that the following day Cassie moved into Sam's house for a rather more permanent stay than she was used to. Michael and Yvonne had claimed not to have minded and had agreed more enthusiastically than Sam had initially expected, but they had made it clear that they would miss Cassie terribly and wanted to see her a lot of the time. She, in turn, had pointed out that they were welcome to visit any time, and Cassie was going to spend at least one week a month in their home. In fact, if Sam was to succumb to her sixth sense, she would have said that Michael and Yvonne were hiding something significant, and she had intended to ask Cassandra if the girl knew anything that explained their air of secrecy. But as her father's memorial service had approached she'd been too wrapped up in other, more personal thoughts and feelings.

As she was now.

A brooding silence had filled the car, as she drove in a misty trance to the specially accommodated Air Force memorial hall that would act as the venue for the service. It wasn't uncomfortable, not at all. She wouldn't have been able to talk fully even if there had been a suitable conversation topic, and perhaps Cassie understood this, because the mature teenager sat still and tranquil, gazing straight ahead, and her presence was comforting.

Contrary to how she had imagined herself to be, Sam wasn't dreading the events today. On the other hand, she would be relieved – it would give her grief a chance to fade away and to be replaced by happy memories of her dad. And like Jack had told her, for his love to be remembered and cherished.

The silence ensued even as she parked outside the hall and they got out. There were not many people gathered around the entrance. Yet, then again, she didn't expect many people to turn up in the first place. Jacob Carter had been widely known in his life, but he'd disappeared and hadn't returned for five entire years. Most of the people who'd known him didn't know the truth about his life with the Tok'ra. And those who did were confused by the vague, untruthful details invented as a replacement of the real story: a story they probably wouldn't believe, anyway.

Sam and Cassie walked across the gravel car park towards the entrance, Sam feeling irritable and uncomfortable in her dress blues. Usually, she enjoyed wearing them – they were a smart representative of her hard work and dedication to the Air Force – but she wished the service today did not have to be formal. She really wanted to remember the soft, cuddly father who had bounced her on her knee and hugged her when she'd been ten years old. The fact that he'd been a General in the Air Force was something to be proud of, yes… but it was something that at fourteen years of age, following her mother's fatal accident, she'd accused him of: loving his work more than the people he cared about. Not that she was doing anything to contradict his example, looking at Jack.

"Sam," called a friendly voice, and she found her legs stopping and her feet planting themselves firmly in the gravel. Daniel and Teal'c came up to her then. They were dressed all in black attire, and Daniel offered a mild, encouraging smile.

"Daniel," she greeted quietly, with a sense of weary relief as he pulled her into a gentle hug. Despite the formality of the occasion, she needed this – she needed other people and their shoulders and support to lean on. Her friend held her tightly for a moment before withdrawing.

"How are you?" he asked the second he released his grasp, and there was a tone to his voice that showed both sympathy and concern.

"Not too bad," she assured him, and glanced around with a smile of greeting to Teal'c. "Just want it to be over with, really."

Nodding at her, he turned to greet Cassie as Teal'c surprisingly embraced her as well.

"My deepest sympathies go to you for the loss of your father, Colonel Carter," he told her solemnly.

"Thanks, Teal'c."

She could not find words to tell them what it meant to her, to know the pair cared and were making the distinct effort to strengthen her for the duration of the service, and when she walked into the hall she found that gentle reassurances did not end. Places were reserved on the front row for her, Daniel, Teal'c and Cassie. As they walked to the front she recognised a few of the attendees, but the group was scattered and meaner. This calmed her to some degree; she didn't feel she could face a huge crowd of people.

Sitting down, oblivious to the light conversation between Daniel and Cassie, Sam could do nothing to stop herself as her eyes sought out one person in particular among the seats, one she really felt she needed to see today. Especially following the previous talk in her quarters. And then she found him, and her remaining nerves were instantly quietened once she met his dark and unreadable gaze. Jack O'Neill happened to be one of those remarkable people who was not necessarily an open character, but could take on a different appearance during different situations. Over the years she'd witnessed Jack varyingly as guarded, determined, courageous, flirty, quiet, energetic, charming, anxious. Today, he demonstrated the utmost care and reassurance for one of his team, and all at once Sam felt livened; she felt whole again. She felt like _her_ again.

Jack gave a small smile from the other side of the room. Very slowly, he excused himself from the small group he was stood amongst; he made his way over to their row. Without speaking he sat in the space to her left, and it took all of Sam's restraint to prevent herself from leaning into his side in the yearning hope of his arms encircling her. She paid no attention as he said 'hi' to Daniel, Teal'c and Cassie. He'd come over here for her, she knew, even though he was supposed to be seated with the Air Force officials. He turned his head, turned his intense gaze upon her.

"Sam?" he questioned softly.

"I'll be okay," she reinforced, equally as gently. "Once my speech is over with."

His acknowledgement to this was a small nod. "It'll be fine," he told her.

No more words were spoken as the remaining ten minutes passed in which a couple of people arrived and those already present became seated. Everything seemed so surreal… it seemed five minutes since she'd last spoken to her dad, and here she was, about to witness his final dedication. There had been no funeral. It was a policy at Stargate Command that no symbiote was to be buried in the ground due to possible future discovery and experimental purposes. Cremation had been an appropriate option, but in the end the Tok'ra had returned his body through the Stargate with the wish to perform their traditional rituals. Jack hadn't been happy with this, but when Sam had confessed she felt most comfortable this way – because the Tok'ra had proven a valuable asset to his close paternal relationship with her – he had immediately complied. But she would never lay eyes upon her deceased dad's face again, now. Only in the few precious photographs of Jacob, his wife, she and… Mark?

Struck by the belated thought of her brother, she spun around in her seat and scanned the crowd for his fair, familiar and long-missed face. Sensing her unease, Jack frowned a little.

"What?" he asked, voice quiet.

"Mark!" she said, stricken that she couldn't spot her brother. "He isn't here."

"Maybe the traffic's bad," suggested Jack reasonably. "Or he could be lost. You want me to—?"

"It's okay, sir," she replied swiftly, unwilling to lose him, who she at least had here with her. "But thanks."

"Carter, I'm sure he's trying to get here."

But the soothing tranquillity that had washed through her mind and body only a few minutes ago was rapidly dissipating in the quickening beat of her pulse. The disappointment she felt in Mark was almost sickening. Even Jack's words, probably plausible, did not register. It was as sickening as when Mark had refused to visit their father when he'd been laying in the hospital dying of cancer.

And yet, despite all the unbelievable scientific methods she had thought up in the past, that had saved the world from destruction on numerous occasions, there wasn't a single thing she could do about it. She felt helpless, and in a way, like she had betrayed her dad through her brother's unexcused absence.

The service began. The only thing that gave the allowance for her ears to listen, and for her lungs to breathe evenly, was the light touch of Jack's warm arm against hers, steady, soothing and solid.

There.

* * *

The service was over... already. She couldn't believe, standing here alone in the corner of Jack's balcony, she had managed to stand in front of everyone at the service and speak publicly about her father and the good times they'd shared. The sudden weary resentment she had felt towards Mark had lingered in her all day; it had spoiled her collected inward structure, and ever since then she had avoided all contact with the other guests at Jack's house, the place at which the wake was taking place. When her commanding officer had offered she'd been so grateful: his house was beautiful, and very much bigger and more accommodating than her own. Definitely more suitable.

Although the attendees of the service were sticking to his living room and the extensive green garden, as it was a pleasant day, and the warm sun was prominent. She could feel it on the back of her neck as she stood listening to the quiet chatter originating from the other side of the house. It was such a short distance but the hustle felt like it was miles away, just as the sun rays felt vague and clouded on her skin. Despair was once again at its peak and it built a barrier around her that blocked luxurious sensation.

This small balcony led from the main landing of his house. She felt slightly guilty – he'd offered the living space of his home for her father's wake and she hadn't asked his permission to come here – but she needed to escape from the sympathy and the curious questioning of the crowd. The balcony was fairly small but it was pretty. The trees hung over the beam on the platform, which overlooked the presently-silent half to his well-kept and rich green garden, peppered at the sides with arrays of more trees and exotically-coloured plants.

God, she felt like any moment she'd drown in her misery.

She almost jumped three feet in the air as the glassed door opened behind her, her heavy heart pumping in her throat. She didn't need to turn around to know who the person welcomingly encroaching her entailed privacy was. She could sense his very presence, almost as if she could catch the scent of his palpable concern. And it was the only scent she currently welcomed.

"I'm sorry," she blurted desperately, holding her jaw tensely without knowing it.

"For what, Carter?" That voice, always so low and mellow in times like these, rallied the final tears that needed to be shed.

"Hiding," she said bitterly, "here."

"Sam." It was typical that he had to call her by her first name in a moment like this, had to unknowingly enhance her raging emotions.

He continued quietly, "There's nothing to be sorry for."

She bit her lip, holding in a harsh sob. She wanted to ask for what she needed, so desperately. But she couldn't. She didn't know how to without sounding pathetic.

"Hey," he said softly. Her moistened eyes shut as two hands caught the backs of her elbows. So he _did_ know, exactly. Only one tiny thread of her forced distance to him screamed that she could not break down in front of the General, not again. That was until he spoke, almost in a whisper. "I'm here, Sam. You might as well use me."

Perhaps it was another absence of the usual 'Carter' that did it for her and caused the realisation to spring into her mind like a burgeoning flower. This wasn't the General, not now – this was Jack. Her friend, Jack, who cared about her in ways he shouldn't but ways she cherished deeply.

The weak thread of restraint snapped and she tore through the air, turning around to collapse exhaustedly into his arms. They awaited her silently and strongly. She crushed her face into his chest and Jack's arms wrapped around her trembling frame as her grief came in spasms that seared through her, in cries that were muffled but harsh against his light blue shirt. She suddenly felt so safe, so rightly placed. His embrace felt like a warm blanket in the cold – an outer layer that protected her from the atmosphere so sharp and stabbing. The succouring heat radiated from his body to hers, as they stood and hugged one another in a secure entangle.

Using the heel of his palm, he rubbed her back firmly; the other hand stroked over her hair in calming motions.

"Sir," she sobbed. Her arms were tight around his waist.

"It's okay," he soothed, gently. "Relax, Sam. Just relax. There's nothing to prove."

She noted that he buried his face in her neck and smiled weakly through her tears. She remembered him doing the exact same thing following the death of Janet, and it comforted her in more ways than even he probably knew. Her weight sagged against his muscular figure. Gradually, her erratic breathing calmed to shallower gulps; he didn't release his hold, and Sam made no remote effort to move. They merely stood there, together.

"I feel really lost," she whispered, spurring an affectionate squeeze.

"It'll get better," he promised lightly. "Especially now today's nearly over."

"Sir…"

She rested the side of her head against his shoulder, and she laughed softly as he asked wearily: "That wasn't about to become a 'thank you', was it?"

"No," assured Sam, sighing heavily. "I don't really know what I was going to say. I don't seem to be very coherent today."

"Understandable."

"God, all the military training, all the barriers they teach you to build…" Her voice was raw and broken and she took a deep gulp of air. "It's been three weeks and I'm still bawling over someone's death."

"Sam," reproached Jack in a gentle tone, "your dad wasn't just a 'someone', was he?"

Swallowing, she said, "No."

"No amount of military training can block the pain of losing someone you care about. Barriers may numb it temporarily, but it'll still be there, and in the long run denying that it hurts only makes things worse." Sam felt his nose touch her ear as he continued quietly, "It's better to accept it so you can recover."

She nodded.

"Distracting yourself from it won't do any good either." His hold loosened and although he stayed close he moved his hands to squeeze the tops of her arms. "If you do that, it'll come back to bite you in the ass. Which is why you need to take some leave."

Too tired and drained to argue with his rare wisdom, she merely sighed and nodded a second time, and he pulled away to study her face.

"Go to the bathroom, clean yourself up," he instructed, smiling. "There's someone who wants to see you."

* * *

And so Sam entered the living room five minutes later to find someone who, since the beginning of the service, she'd lost all hope of seeing, but she barely had time to offer a smile before something hard impacted her stomach.

"Sam!"

"Aunty Sam!"

"Woah, kids, calm down," ordered her brother's hard voice. "Let your aunt breathe."

With a relief filling her insides that almost reflected the time when they'd managed to successfully blow up the sun, Sam looked down and felt the first small laugh of a dreary, prolonged while emerge from her throat. Her nephew and niece beamed up at her happily.

"Hey!" she greeted, hugging them in return. "Haven't seen you for ages!"

"We missed you," declared the youngest, Megan, with a pout showing on her face, and she smiled and brought her hand up to pet the girl's light blonde and wispy hair.

"I missed you too, sweetheart."

"Hi, Sam."

She was unsure what to expect as she raised her head and succumbed to her brother's coolly-coloured eyes. But what she saw there – apology and regret, mixed with a hint of hidden sorrow – eased the uncertain idea of the presence of a resentful attitude.

"Mark," she responded softly, and for a moment they stared at one another. Whenever they were together memories both blissful and horrid, recent and old, bounced back and forth between their locked blue gaze.

The moment seemed to last for an eternity. Finally there was a small cough, and Mark and Sam snapped away from their trance.

Jack smiled reassuringly. He raised his eyebrows to the two children.

"Kids… whadda ya say to a small game of hockey? Yes?"

"Yeah!" the two agreed in unison, immediately tearing away from Sam's slackened hold to join Jack as he backed away from the older pair of siblings. He winked at Sam as he passed and she gave him a small, grateful smile: he had such a wonderful effect on children. And a wonderful effect on her, too. After that tender hug, she felt she could tackle anything in reach.

"They're kids, they don't understand," Mark apologised quietly as he watched his son and daughter leave with the SGC's General. "Jacob—_Dad_… he didn't see much of them before this happened."

"That's not his fault," Sam quickly stated with an air of defiance, saddened that Mark still sometimes thought of his father as 'Jacob'.

Her brother offered a tentative smile. "Let me guess… Air Force stuff? Classified?"

She sighed, mumbling, "I'm sorry."

Mark waved a hand. "Don't worry about it."

"Why weren't you at the service?" Sam demanded before she could stop herself. She'd spoken rather more harshly than she'd intended – her voice was deficient of reason or patience – and she winced as she remembered her brother's rash stubbornness. But to her surprise, he mimicked her heavy sigh.

"I—it wasn't out of disrespect for dad." Mark sank onto Jack's sofa and sat with his hands twisting together awkwardly. "I—I couldn't, Sam."

"Why 'couldn't' you, Mark?" she snapped, wringing her hands, before becoming exasperated and running a frustrated hand through her hair. "And don't you dare give me one of your lame excuses. This is _dad_ we're talking about here, and in case you haven't noticed, he's _gone_!"

The clipped tone of her voice left a tenseness in the atmosphere so thick, a knife could have sliced it in half.

For a long while Mark was silent. Then he said, shortly, "I would have come if it hadn't been a formal military service." He glanced at her, almost ordering her to understand. "But you know how I feel about the Air Force, Sam. It ruined our family – it's the reason our mother was killed, because dad was late home from his God damn _work_. I didn't want to remember all those bad times we had! I didn't want to make myself angry with him again now he's gone!"

Some of Sam's disappointment and angry resolve depleted in a heartbeat as her brother's words sunk in. Thinking back to when she'd sat there in her seat beside Jack, she bit her lip in remembrance of her own, similar thoughts. But she'd still showed up, hadn't she?

"I can understand that," she said in a slightly choked voice. "But what about me, Mark? Why couldn't you have come for _me_?"

"I—" But he stopped. There was no need to speak aloud the truthful and hurting words – because everything she knew already shone dully, sadly, in those regretful eyes so resembling her own. _We're not as close as we were before mom died. I'll care about you as a sister but not as much as some people. I barely talk to you, barely see you. You have family more involved with you than me._ But he was still, and would remain to be, her brother. Her own flesh and blood.

"You're family," she whispered, the constant accompaniment of her tears returning.

He looked down at the serene, cream carpet, and back up again. She'd never seen him so remorseful as he stood up from the sofa again and wandered over to Jack's shiny mahogany mantelpiece.

"In the flesh," he agreed with her thoughts, and told her quietly, "but I think your real family _were_ with you today."

As he said this, his eyes flicked to a photograph standing on the smooth, polished surface, and she followed his restless gaze to find one of her favourite pictures of the older and forever remembered SG-1, taken just before Jack had been promoted to commander of the base. She, Daniel, Teal'c, Jack: stood together. On Jack's shoulder casually rested her hand and the other looped around the broad, muscular arm belonging to Teal'c.

And she understood suddenly and knew her brother was right. Her true family – the people she needed more than anyone in life, now that her father was gone – were all assembled in this one, telling image. Maybe she had wished for Mark at the service today – but only because she had felt bad for her father. She had wanted his last goodbye to be devoid of denial and old grudges that had supposedly been cleared away, brushed under the carpet. And she realised, too, that this was something she had known all along. There was no deep love running between she and her brother, even as a vague undercurrent. Too many years of distance had stamped away their tight and loving attachment.

Mark broke away from the photograph and steadily walked towards her.

"That doesn't mean I don't care about you, Sam. Or dad."

"Me too," she admitted with a sad smile. "Me too, Mark."

"And if I didn't care, I wouldn't be here now," he pointed out wryly.

She glanced away. "We should talk."

"Yeah." She had never noticed before how tall her brother was. He hesitantly took a step forward and hugged her. And for the fourth time that day, she leaned willingly into another person's arms.

But as Mark's arms wrapped around her and held her loosely, she couldn't help but feel that compared to Jack's earlier offers of gentle, special comfort and promising support, the hug was nothing but automated and unfeeling…

Bland.

* * *

A good few hours' later, and the guests that had occupied Jack's house for the entire afternoon had disappeared. He sat with a slightly guilty heart, positioned on the edge of his bed with a heavy envelope clasped between his fingers. Jacob's Last Goodbye to his daughter. He had planned to give it to her on this day – to add the final weight to her heart before she began to heal inwardly – but that had been yesterday.

Today, the opportunity just hadn't seemed right, and once again, he was toying with various possible scenarios in which he could pass it on to her without inducing further grief. It was the only thing preventing him from granting Jacob one of his last wishes: the incentive that he didn't want to increase her hurt. But it had to be done.

With a sigh, he returned the immaculate white envelope to the messy draw beside his bed. If only, this time, she would say thelong-awaited 'yes'.


	6. Refusals

**Author's Note**: I'm back, finally. I found this chapter a real struggle—I'm really sorry if it doesn't flow very well, but it's the best I can manage at the moment. More ship in the next chapter!

* * *

**Chapter 6 - Refusals**

It was always with a kind of cautious dread that Daniel watched General O'Neill walk into his office and approach his desk—even more so once upon a time when Jack had been a 'Colonel' and had often been bored with nothing to do—and he wasn't even sure why. As far as he could remember, Jack hadn't actually broken anything yet. But maybe that wasn't the point. Maybe he just knew Jack too well to be aware that he had the mere innocent ability to destroy something. From some of Sam's complaints over the years, which had often referred to various scientific objects and instruments, he definitely wasn't alone in this conclusion.

"Daniel!"

Quickly, Daniel glanced at the objects surrounding the marked parchment he currently pored over, and was pleased to see that none of them were either fragile or valuable. Blinking under his glasses, relieved, he looked up at Jack and smiled warmly.

"Hey, Jack. What can I do for you?"

"Well, actually, I'm here to give you an invitation."

Surprised, Daniel repeated, "An invitation? Really? Where to?"

"Minnesota!"

Yup, it had happened again. For the third time and no doubt still counting, Jack O'Neill had asked him to join him on a fishing trip… something that appealed to Daniel less than the idea of scrunching all these precious parchment pieces up and setting fire to them. Fishing really was not his thing. And from what Teal'c had told him of his own experiences, there wasn't much else to do. It was almost as though the concept was to fish or die of boredom. Daniel wasn't keen on either option.

"Er – really?" Daniel stalled, playing for words that wouldn't offend his friend. "To go fishing, you mean?"

"Oh, yeah!" said Jack eagerly, slapping his palms against Daniel's desk and awaiting an answer. "Fish, fish and fish some more."

Great.

"Well, that's really generous of you, Jack, thanks, but, uh—"

"Ah!" Jack held up a hand. "Don't say you've got work to do. SG-1 are after today on leave, and if I've banned Carter from this place, it's a little unfair to let you still be here, don't ya think?"

"Look, maybe Teal'c could go with you?" offered Daniel tactically, trying hard to suppress a grin at the untruthfulness of his next words. "I know he really enjoyed the whole… ah… art of fishing last time."

"Teal'c's already coming," said Jack. "I thought you could come, too."

"Teal'c agreed?" faltered Daniel, eyebrows raised.

"Sure."

Jack shifted uncomfortably under the archaeologist's searching, slightly crestfallen gaze, and winced. "Oh, all right, I haven't asked him yet," he admitted with a sigh, "but I _know_ he'll say yes."

"Okay, let's agree on this then." Daniel looked up at Jack. "If Teal'c accepts, I'll come along. If he doesn't I'm staying—because he said he'd help me sort out my apartment this week," he invented swiftly. "And, obviously, it's no good if he's not here."

"So let me get this straight… I have to convince Teal'c, first?"

"Yep."

Letting out a low whistle, Jack swivelled around to exit the room, calling, "Nooo problem," and he left Daniel discreetly smirking down at his parchment.

* * *

Jack found Teal'c strolling along one of the corridors, and from then on, neither the jaffa nor Daniel was left alone for more than fifteen minutes at a time.

"Teal'c!" called Jack, catching up with Teal'c who turned slightly and bowed his head to acknowledge O'Neill's presence. "Buddy! Wanna come fishin'?"

The corners of Teal'c's mouth dropped as abruptly as a stone. "No, I do not wish to accompany you on this occasion, O'Neill."

"_What_?" responded Jack, incredulous. "How can anybody not want to go fishing in Minnesota?"

"Perhaps you could blame the mosquitoes. Or, maybe, the lack of fish, O'Neill."

"T, fella, we've been over this…"

* * *

"So, what did Teal'c say? No?"

"Yes."

Daniel dropped the book he'd taken from his bookshelf. "He said _yes_?"

"No, Daniel, you idiot."

"Jeez, Jack, you're a little confusing sometimes, you know."

"He said no. But when I told him that you might be coming, he told me to convince you to say yes, first."

"Really?" Daniel gave a small laugh. "Looks like you have a bit of a problem, then."

"So, will you come fishin'?"

* * *

"I assume that Daniel Jackson did not give you the answer you wished for, O'Neill."

They were striding along another of the SGC's numerous corridors. Jack frowned and looked down at the jaffa's moving feet. Was is just him, or was Teal'c walking morehurriedly than usual?

"No," he admitted tragically, "he didn't."

"Did I not tell you a second attempt would be pointless?"

"Yes, Teal'c, ya did… but you didn't say it would prove unsuccessful on you."

Teal'c raised an eyebrow. "My answer is, yet again, 'no', O'Neill," he said, and although he didn't sound sorry at all, added, "and I apologise."

"Aww, T, come on, it'll be fun."

"My answer," Teal'c repeated with forced tranquillity, "remains negative."

"Hey, you fancy a game of boxing?" suggested Jack thoughtfully.

"So suddenly, O'Neill?"

"Yup."

"Very well," Teal'c agreed, seemingly glad for a change of subject.

Hesitantly, Jack coughed slightly, and added, "There's just… one—tiny—condition."

Another strong and well-used eyebrow muscle was flexed in response. "Indeed?"

"If I win," began Jack loudly, leading the way to the gym and scratching the back of his neck, "you have to 'accompany' me on my fishing trip this week."

"You have never beaten me, O'Neill. What makes you think this game will be any different?"

"But a deal's a deal, right?"

"Indeed it is."

"Good."

All of a sudden, Teal'c appeared very smug.

* * *

"Daniel, wanna come fishing?" invited Jack as if he hadn't asked before, once again entering Daniel's office.

Daniel, exasperated, took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "I thought we'd established that I don't." He winced a little. "No offence or anything."

Jack brushed the comment aside with his hand, saying, "None taken."

"What happened to your face?"

Daniel had just looked up to find an angry, rather swollen welt covering Jack's left cheek, and the other man was also rubbing his jaw uncomfortably.

"Oh, I had a little boxing match with Teal'c. Apparently this time I didn't know when to admit defeat." He shrugged, prodding the sore area gingerly with his finger. "He got a little carried away, I guess."

"That's… nice of him," said Daniel. "Maybe you should go to the infirmary?"

"I'm fine," the General replied, now rotating his jaw as if checking it worked properly. "It's just a little sore."

"So, is there a reason you're here, _again_, might I add, or—?"

Jack looked mildly affronted. "Of course there is," he said. "I'm tryin' to persuade you to join me this week to go fishing in Minnesota."

Closing his eyes, very briefly, Daniel clenched his own healthy jaw together and inhaled deeply through his nose. "For the last time, Jack…"

"Soon enough, I'm gonna make you give in," smirked his current annoyance.

"Look at the time," remarked Daniel suddenly, jumping from his seat. "We're going to Hetora in an hour—I need to go see Sam."

Before Jack could ask him the same irritating question for the thousandth time, he hurried from the room, and distinctly heard Jack calling, "You're still not out of it, Daniel!"

Jeez, why had he ever risked his life for that man?

* * *

"Okay, kids, time for you to go to work."

SG-1 was assembled in the gate room and ready to embark on their negotiation mission to Hetora, dressed in waterproof gear to protect them from the expected torrential rain. The Stargate began to whirl and smoke as the individual address was dialled.

"Chevron six encoded," called Harriman. "Chevron seven… locked."

Sam smiled up at Jack, hitching up her backpack slightly and wondering if she would ever get used to the idea of she, Daniel and Teal'c stepping through the Stargate without him. Jack reached for the microphone again up in the busy control room as the transparent wormhole burst into existence.

"I think this is the part where I say goodbye, good luck, and see you soon," he spoke into it loudly. "Oh, and be careful not to drown."

The three standing on the bottom of the ramp smiled; Daniel gave a small wave, and the next minute they were stepping forwards and through the shimmering gate, pulling up their hoods as they moved. Despite the infinite number of times she had done this by now, Sam could never find travelling through a wormhole anything but refreshingly breathtaking. As she emerged on the other side, the thatch and mud-straw buildings and flimsy pavilions sprang into vision all around, and she felt heavy raindrops immediately splash against the well-covered top of her head.

Like many places on Earth, Hetora's villages were structured in scattered arrays of different suburbs. Centred around the Stargate, it gradually changed from urban, in their respects, to rural, which meant that the village's outskirts consisted of long and fertile stretches of productive farmland. She squinted her eyes and blinked forcefully to vanquish the rain, and glanced around at the landscape. Mountains richly-coloured in green vegetation even in the poor visibility of the weather could be seen as tall, sharp and erect against the low ground, with peaks that vanished somewhere in the hazy grey sky. Somewhere within the lower-levelled rocks were the entrances to the Hetorians' secretive mines. Sam wasn't entirely sure why, but the vague explanation she had been given when she'd enquired intrigued her even further. One of the villagers had merely told her that they mined a natural resource needed to help their people. She was exceedingly curious as to what the properties of this 'natural resource' were.

The constant pounding of the sky's water splattered against the sloppy land and flooded muddy puddles amid the scattered clumps of grass. SG-1 moved forward, and was immediately greeted by one of the native Hetorian people.

"Colonel Carter," welcomed a middle-aged woman whom Sam recognised as a villager named Nethayla. "Dr Jackson, Teal'c."

"Nethayla, isn't it?" replied Daniel with a smile, hands clasped around his hood to keep it in place. "The village healer."

"Yes. It is good to see the people of the Tau'ri return through the Ring." Nethayla possessed a voice that was warm and soft. She was a tiny, thin sort of woman with crinkly brown skin and deep lines framing small, hazel-coloured and kindly eyes, half-hidden beneath her own large hood draping over her hair.

"Come with me," she instructed in a friendly tone, and led them through sloshing mud until they reached a large nearby pavilion. In the relief of finding shelter from the perpetual pouring of the rain, SG-1 pushed back their hoods. Nethayla did the same, revealing her long, dry and tangled hair to be tied back in a loose and messy plait.

"I am sorry you have visited Hetora during its season of rain," she told them a little solemnly as she lit several candles around the spacious but empty-looking tent. The sheer size of it reminded Sam of a dull circus tent more than anything. There were straw-weaved chairs surrounding a table at its centre; Nethayla gestured for them to sit. "It truly is a beautiful and exotic planet in the sunshine."

Daniel smiled amiably. "I'm sure it is," he assured her, squirming slightly on the uncomfortable and rather itchy seat.

Nethayla ceased her bustling about the dark space once they were settled and sighed. "Kalek will meet with you today," she informed them quietly. "He is the governor of this village—the reason being for his absence upon your first visit that he was away and tending to important national matters—and he will speak to you on behalf of Hetora."

"Then your government have discussed the upcoming attack?" said Sam, surprised.

Nethayla shook her head. "I do not know for certain. I can only, knowing my planet as I do, assume. But I will say that it is probable. Now, you must be wary of Kalek. He is a good leader but he is quick to temper, offence and sometimes greed, and has also been known for his deception. To offend or insult him in any way would be most unwise."

Wincing a little, Sam shared a wary glance with Daniel and Teal'c. "Thanks for the advice," she told the healer genuinely.

"You must also understand," continued the other woman, "that if Kalek issues you information concerning the government's opinions and decisions, there is no possibility of persuading the average Hetorian to act against or in ill favour of their wishes. We would never seek a planetary split."

Daniel and Sam nodded in agreement. "No matter what, we respect that," said the former, "and we would never try to inflict trouble upon Hetora… but I'm just curious here… how much has the average Hetorian, as you call them, been told?"

Nethayla turned her gentle eyes upon him. "Only to be wary of an enemy," she answered softly. "Some, like myself, know more than others."

"Are you not frightened, Nethayla?" questioned Teal'c perceptively.

The healer of the village took small steps towards them, her face showing no emotion. "It is the way of my government to believe there is no need for fear, and therefore to them it does not exist." She brushed dry strands of hair behind her ears. "As for me… I am one hundred and seven years old and not once in this time have I encountered a single threat to our planet."

"That's what Saceti told us on our last visit," Sam observed, thinking back to their previous informative. "And that you have no interest in war because you've never experienced one."

"One hundred and seven?" Daniel repeated in awe. "You're kidding."

Nethayla smiled kindly as though she understood his curiosity. "My people often live to two hundred years of age, and even then we do not show noticeable signs of our years. I am surprised Saceti did not mention our lengthy lifespan to you."

"I hope you don't mind me asking," queried Sam in wonder, "but how?"

"Medicines," Nethayla offered simply, before continuing, "As I was saying, I do not know what to expect of this. I have read stories of battles but do not understand them, and therefore part of me wants to believe we can negotiate amiably with these people—your enemy. However, whether I like it or not, I trust you," she explained. "You seem wise and genuine with great experience. And that does make me fear what is to become of Hetora."

Daniel wore a sympathetic expression. "We have the power to help you," he said reassuringly, "but I'm afraid that without your government's co-operation we're unable to use it."

"Although you must take into account that it would be futile to try and negotiate with the Goa'uld," added Teal'c gravely, and Sam hastily expanded on his statement as a slight frown appeared on the gentle Nethayla's face.

"They don't have a lot of pity for innocent and flourishing civilizations," she offered. "The Goa'uld are parasites. They take what they want, including human beings to use as their hosts, without caring about the victims of their raids. We personally have never met this Goa'uld system lord before, but we know them in general well enough by now to know what to expect."

The female healer looked doubtful at this, and challenged very softly, "On the other hand, perhaps you are wrong, and this one is different?" For a fleeting moment Sam was reminded of the Nox.

"Nethayla," said Sam then, frowning, "if you trust us, trust this: all Goa'uld are the same. They're greedy with plenty of control at their hands, hands you do not want Hetora to fall into. It's essential your government understands this."

She nodded with her eyes towards the ground.

"Have you any idea as to why a race such as the Goa'uld would be attracted to Hetora?" Teal'c added. His large hands were folded serenely on the straw table top.

Confused, Nethayla said, "Did you not tell us last time that they wanted hosts for their symbiotes, and possibly a new spacious planet on which to thrive?"

"There are a lot of planets similar to yours," Daniel explained quickly, smiling, "and we were wondering if there was something special attracting them _here_. The Goa'uld don't really appreciate beauty of a landscape, you see."

The woman remained impassive and shook her head. "No. There is nothing…"

"Are you sure?" Sam watched Nethayla intently and tried to remain nonchalant as she suggested, "No significant history… discoveries… no natural resources…?"

Finally she seemed to come to a realisation and looked at Sam, Daniel and Teal'c cautiously. "The—of course—Hetora's mines."

Sam smiled, the answer satisfactory. "That's what I thought, too. What exactly do you mine in there?"

There was a brief silence.

"It must be very valuable if the Goa'uld are chasing it," Daniel urged thoughtfully. "We're just curious."

"We do not speak of our resource to foreigners," admitted Nethayla calmly, "not even to those whom we trust. It is our most valuable material. We would not be the same race if not for those mines. I am sorry," she added on impulse.

"Oh, no, it's fine," he reassured her. "But whatever it is, Geb—the enemy—he must have caught wind of it." He noticed her incomprehensive expression. "Ah, he must have heard about it from somebody else."

"I could not think who. Excepting you, there have been no visitors to Hetora for at least twenty years."

"Oh." Daniel frowned. "That's... interesting."

Teal'c looked sideways at his friend. "Indeed."

"We can ask the Tok'ra if Yan'kash has discovered anything new," suggested Sam reasonably. "Maybe he—"

"Governor Kalek!" Nethayla jumped suddenly, making SG-1 twist in their seats to look at the disturbance, and started towards the entrance. "These are the people of the Tau'ri."

A tall, lean man stood in the doorway. Compared to Nethayla's kindly features, his face was hard and set. His posture radiated domination and authority, as his dark, intent eyes observed their planet's visitors.

"Yes, I was informed they had arrived through the Ring." His eyebrows joined in a scowl. "Resume your duties, Nethayla," he ordered harshly.

"As you wish, Governor." The woman hastily slipped from the pavilion.

For a while he simply stood there and watched them, his eyes lingering on Teal'c; and then he strode forward and poured himself a glass of wine without offering.

"We had expected you would return."

"Governor Kalek," greeted Sam, and gestured to her two companions in turn, "this is Dr Daniel Jackson… and Teal'c."

"And you are?" he questioned in a bored tone.

"Colonel Samantha Carter."

"I see." He sipped his wine and strolled lazily to the darker side of the tent. "Well, well, well. Do you know my villagers spoke very highly of you?"

Flicking his eyes to Sam, Daniel said, "We've come to offer you our assistance."

"What makes you believe Hetora requires assistance?"

Sam grimaced inwardly. This was definitely not going to be easy. "You're about to undergo an attack and you have no means of defending yourselves. Your people will die."

"How would you be able to aid us?" Kalek asked lazily, drawing up his leg and resting his foot on a low stool, cloak drawn around his figure mysteriously.

"Well, your only real option is temporary relocation," said Daniel.

"We will not leave Hetora," the other man stated shortly. "This planet is too valuable for us to so rashly abandon its virtues." His lips curled into a slight sneer. "What else can you do?"

Sighing, Sam said, "If the worst came to the worst, we can help fight with our weapons… but we'd appreciate it if you would consider your other option, first."

"And why are you so eager to aid us?"

"The Tau'ri are a race continuously fighting the Goa'uld," answered Teal'c calmly. "It is not wished for that Geb becomes more powerful by claiming more hosts, land and servants."

Kalek's face remained hard, closed and impassive, and he swung his leg from the stool, placed his glass down with an obnoxious clunk and made for the exit once more.

"I will discuss your offerings to the other Governers," he told them uninterestedly, "but I sincerely doubt we will agree to leaving this planet." He halted and swung the curtain aside, gazing back at them with narrowed eyes. "Send an envoy within seven days."

With that he walked out.

"Wait!" said Daniel incredulously, getting up. "That's it?"

There was no reply.

"Kalek, wait—!"

"Leave it, Daniel," Sam ordered, also rising to her feet. "I don't think he's a man we can argue with, somehow."

"That has to be the shortest discussion I've ever _had_ with a leader of a planet," the archaeologist complained as they lifted their hoods, preparing to trudge back to the Stargate.

She, too, felt the mission had been a waste of time, but said resignedly as they ventured outside, "At least he said he'll discuss it."

Five minutes later, they were emerging from the 'gate on their homeworld's side.

"That was quick," remarked Jack shrewdly, watching his team with a small frown and folded arms as they plodded down the ramp.

"Tell me about it," muttered Daniel with irritation.

"Suffice it to say that Kalek, the leader of the main village, is a jerk, sir," Sam told him, stifling a grin at Jack's look of surprise.

The SGC's commander quickly recovered. "I take it they didn't agree?" he asked.

"He said he'll present the options to the other governors, but he made his feelings pretty clear, sir. They don't want to leave."

"Ohh-kay." Jack clapped his hands together. "Well, there's no need for a debriefing, really. Off you trot… Oh, Daniel, wait!" he called as Sam and Teal'c left the embarkation room.

Daniel knew what the General was going to say even as he stopped in his tracks and said, "Jack?"

"Come fishing with me?"

"Ah… no."

"Please?"

"No."

"Are you going to make me say 'pretty please with a cherry on top'?"

"Not unless you want to."

"Okay, pretty please with a cherry and _jello_ on top."

Dripping in water, Daniel was disbelieving. "No… Jack, how many times do you need me to say 'no'?"

"It'd be a good break, Daniel."

"Yeah, we've been over this."

A pause.

"So you're coming then?"

"No!"

"Damn."

"Jack, why are you so bothered about me coming with you, anyway?"

To his surprise, his friend heaved a heavy, awkward sigh and looked Daniel straight in the eye. "I cannot believe I'm about to say this!" he muttered through gritted teeth, folding his arms across his chest.

"What?"

"Okay… no, sorry, Danny, I can't."

"Jack—"

"I can't!"

"Jack, stop being an ass and tell me."

"Promise me you won't laugh," scowled the General darkly.

"I swear."

"All right." He took a huge, deep breath. "If-you-come-fishin'-I-think-Carter'll-come-too."

Very slowly, the corners of Daniel's mouth turned upwards in a half-smirk, half-grin, and he frowned mockingly, leaning a little closer as Jack regarded him warily. "Sorry, what was that?" he requested, smiling.

Jack looked at this point like he was about two seconds away from hitting him, but he seemed to contain his irritation and instead said, with forced calmness, "If you come fishing, Daniel, I think Carter might be more inclined to come fishing, too… because then we won't be left alone all the time, will we?"

"Ahh! Really?"

"Yes, really," Jack replied defiantly, glaring at him.

"Well… you know what, I may have to think about that…"

And cracking a gigantic and triumphant grin, Dr. Daniel Jackson turned away.


	7. Finally, A Fishing Trip

**Chapter 7 – Finally, A Fishing Trip**

"This is great," she remarked happily, watching as the boy of the fishing line bobbed back towards them gently.

"I told ya."

"I can't believe we didn't do this years ago."

"Yes, well," said Jack, mock-sternly, and smirked, "let's not dwell."

Sam looked at him and gave him a relaxed, friendly smile, then gazed back out at the placid pond. It happened so quickly that at first she thought she'd imagined it. But Jack was lowering his fishing line, his face showing surprise and a hint of disbelief. Seconds ago a rather chunky fish had jumped out of the water, soared in an arc-like motion through thin air, and had then re-penetrated the rippling surface with a small splash. Was it really so strange? Fish, pond. Pond, fish. The two fit into one equation quite easily. But…

"I thought that tape said there were no fish in your pond?"

Jack turned to look at her. "Close enough," he replied simply, after a moment's thought.

She chuckled and he grinned back at her with a boyish delight, an expression she'd seen too rarely in the long eight years of knowing him. Who cared if their timeline wasn't entirely how it should be due to one pesky fish? They were finally at his cabin, together. Her own smile was enhanced when she realised Jack was just pleased because she seemed to be enjoying herself here.

That was Jack, she supposed: uncomplicated and easily contented. Well, he must be contented easily if he enjoyed fishing _this_ much. As for her, she was just happy to be spending time with him away from work.

She heard Daniel and Teal'c lumbering up behind them with their heavy fishing gear, borrowed from Jack, of course, who had now reeled in his fishing line and was tossing it across the pond with another long whoosh.

"Nice," he muttered as it landed metres away with a small plop, issuing another smile from Sam who was beginning to feel more and more suited to this small cabin up in Minnesota every minute she spent here with him. It was a beautiful, individual spot, secluded and so quiet. High above the tall pine trees which surrounded his cabin the Spring sun radiated its weak warmth, highlighting the peaks of the purple-tipped mountains in the long-stretching distant view.

Nearly two weeks ago, for the sixth time, he'd asked her to accompany him on a fishing trip to his cabin, and for the first time she'd answered with a 'Yes'. She didn't really know why—she'd just said it.

"_Carter!"_

"_Sir! Hi… I was just finishing up here."_

"_Yeah, so I see. That explains why your computer's still on, your log book's open, and there's a big honkin' cup of fresh steaming coffee on your desk, right?"_

_She grinned a little sheepishly. "Right."_

"_Carter, one day I'm gonna order you off this base."_

"_Haven't you already done so before, sir?"_

"_Well, yeah, but you never actually listened that time." He chewed his lip and his expression became serious. "Carter," he began, "I know you don't need reminding again but you just lost someone."_

_She looked away. "I know."_

"_You need some time to yourself for a while. Believe me."_

"_Sir, three weeks is a long time to sit around doing nothing for."_

"_Why don't you come fishin'?"_

"_Sir?"_

"_Look, I know it's never appealed to you in the past. But the offer's still there. Think about it, Carter – it'd be fun. Daniel and Teal'c are coming," he added quickly, and clapped his hands together. "Perfect opportunity for team bonding!"_

_She smiled at that._

"_Okay then. I think I'll join you."_

The General had hardly been able to believe his ears—obviously he'd expected her to reject his offer. But now they were here and Sam was thoroughly enjoying having nothing to do but sit, drink and, from time to time, chat.

Sam and Jack looked round as a nasty-sounding slap broke the peaceful quietness.

"You want some mozzie-cream, T?" asked Jack, as Teal'c brought his large hand away from his face, looking extremely annoyed.

"I will refrain," said the jaffa, sitting down rigidly.

"Your choice," said Jack. "But then again, I see your thinkin'. What's a couple of mosquitoes when you've had hundreds of replicators to deal with?"

"As a matter of fact, O'Neill, I would currently much prefer to have to fend off replicators."

Raising his eyebrows, Jack said, "Are you _sure_ you don't want that cream?"

"That's Teal'c," commented Sam. "Always more happy with a weapon."

"Imagine if replicators showed up now," mused Daniel randomly. "We'd be devastated."

Jack and Sam looked at each other, bemused.

"Daniel," called Jack over his shoulder, "have you been on my beer already?"

"No, Jack… why d'you say that?"

"Just wonderin'."

"How much beer have you bought, sir?" asked Sam, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

He seemed to consider this. "Enough," he settled with, innocently.

"Right."

"Enough to quench Danny's needs… mine… yours…" He jabbed his thumb behind his head. "And I always forget Teal'c's a non-drinker, so _that_ explains any excess."

Sam smiled. "Enough, then, huh?"

He grinned.

"You betcha."

* * *

Ten hours and seven or eight beers later at eleven o'clock, Sam was feeling more than a little tipsy, and there was still a huge stock of alcohol ice cold in the fridge. They were all lounging on the floor of the cabin's living room, now clad in their nightwear. This was Daniel's fault. After the fifth beer, he'd insisted they climbed into their 'pyjamas' because he'd wanted to see what Teal'c wore for bed, and Sam and Jack had both thought this extremely disturbing until Teal'c had appeared before them.

It turned out that Daniel had gone upstairs and for some reason had been blessed with the idea of _drawing _on Teal'c plain white T-shirt. Teal'c now had the privilege of the slogan 'I am an alien' emblazed across his broad chest, to accompany the rather simplistic diagram of a jaffa fighting around the stomach area.

Sam and Jack had collapsed with laughter, not particularly at the joke itself but at Teal'c's face as Daniel had swung the door open. It had taken almost fifteen minutes for the archaeologist to persuade Teal'c to come downstairs, and Teal'c had stood there wearing the stupid T-shirt and looking nothing but put out.

Anyone could conclude straight away that Daniel wasn't exactly suited to the job of an artist. He'd included a staff in the picture, but the long stick had been drawn in the wrong place and, to put it extremely, looked quite pornographic. Of course, such things were doubly amusing when over twenty empty beer bottles had been discarded to the side of the room.

The scene had then prompted them to play Pictionary and it was Sam and Jack against Daniel and the 'alien'; she was trying desperately to win, as she had a feeling Daniel would hold them to their agreement of a dare at the end. God only knows what he would think up in his giddy, drunken state.

Star Wars played on the TV in the background and everywhere she looked she was surrounded by junk food: pizza slices, donuts, and potato wedges to name a few. And then there was the alcohol. Well, that and Teal'c's cranberry juice.

"I believe you are attempting to portray General Hammond, Daniel Jackson."

"No, no, _no_!" said Daniel exasperatedly, holding up the paper with the sketchy figure drawn onto it. "Teal'c, how does that even _resemble_ General Hammond?"

"The baldness," suggested Jack between mouthfuls of popcorn.

"Indeed," agreed Teal'c. "And your figure wears a short-sleeved shirt."

"It is _not_ General Hammond!" said Daniel indignantly. He placed the paper down on the small table they were using and began to sketch another figure hastily.

"Thirty-two seconds left, Danny," warned Jack.

"Thirty, now," put in Sam, grinning.

"Twenty-eight…"

"Will you guys shut up? You're distracting me."

"Mmm, yes," drawled Jack teasingly, "and that would be the point."

"Are you certain it is not General Hammond, Daniel Jackson?"

"Quite certain, Teal'c," said Daniel through gritted teeth.

"Oh, come on, T," Jack whined, "even _I_ know who it is."

Sam glanced at him, surprised. "You do?"

"Sure. Come here." He gestured for her to lean closer and, cupping his hand around her ear, whispered, "Think Simpsons."

"Ohhh," she realised, straightening up again. "Gee, Daniel. No offence or anything, but you're a little off there, don't you think?"

Daniel held up the scruffy piece of paper to Teal'c triumphantly. "There! That just makes it obvious."

Teal'c continued to stare at Daniel's drawing blankly. The second figure wore a cap and possessed a sharp triangle for a nose, and an arrow linked it to the first, slightly plumper figure. There was a pause.

"Is that me?" asked Jack in disbelief.

"Uh, yeah," Daniel said, a little apologetically. Sam and Jack stared at him. "Well, it's the first thing that comes to mind, isn't it?"

The General stroked his left eyebrow self-consciously. "Why'd you draw my scar?"

"That is a pitiful drawing, Daniel Jackson," commented Teal'c, turning away to the TV and his favourite film.

"Hey—if Jack can tell what it is, it can't be that bad!"

"Good one," said Jack, pointing his finger at Daniel.

"So, Teal'c, still no idea?"

Teal'c's lips curled slightly in a smug smile. "None," he said.

"Well, your time's up anyway," Sam declared, glimpsing the clock's hand. "You'd better tell him, Daniel…"

"Teal'c, it's Homer," Daniel told him, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world, and exaggerated every syllable. "Homer Simpson. Why do you think I drew Jack?"

"I see," responded Teal'c, disinterestedly. "Next time, I advise you to draw three hairs instead of one, as Homer Simpson is not entirely bald on the top of the head. General Hammond, on the other hand, is."

Teal'c's way with words was so serious that Sam and Daniel burst into peals of laughter, and Jack grinned widely.

"You're learning well, T, buddy!" was all he said, grabbing Daniel's drawing and shaking his head. "You're a worse obsessive than I am, and I'm The Simpsons' biggest fan."

* * *

All Sam's efforts of winning had surpassed in vain, as she waited cautiously for Daniel to decide on their 'dare'. It was at times like these the astrophysicist and Air Force officer was sincerely glad the White House wasn't monitoring the lives and behaviour of the people they relied on to ensure Earth's safety from alien threats. She was sure the President would have suffered a heart attack at the things he saw, simple human beings or not. She looked sideways at Jack, and grinned. Well, someone certainly appeared nervous. She picked up his beer can and pressed it into his hand.

"Sir, relax." They were both leaning against the couch, and Daniel sat opposite them, watching them with an unfamiliar naughty glint in his eyes. "What's the worst he could ask us to do?"

As his eyebrows climbed, Jack took a swig of his beer and muttered, "I could think of a few things."

"You're not the only one," put in Daniel, shifting to sit cross legged on the floor. "You've reason to be—"

"Daniel," the General interrupted, "quit the suspense and get on with it, will ya?"

"Sir," she smiled, "I really wouldn't worr—"

"Kiss Sam."

Sam's head whipped round to face Daniel. "_What_?" she snapped.

"Kiss Jack," the archaeologist interpreted for her, a slow, satisfied smirk showing on his drunkenly flushed face. "I'm sure it's not hard."

Irritating heat prickled in the skin of her cheeks. "That's—"

"No, we'll do it," said Jack loudly, getting onto his knees. "Jeez, don't get so excited, Danny."

Suddenly feeling very exposed, very vulnerable, she stared. What the hell was he playing at? He knew they couldn't, no matter how drunk they were! "Sir?" she asked unsurely, as he leaned closer to her and slipped an arm around her shoulders.

"Carter?"

"What are you—?"

He slid a palm over one hot cheek, framing her ear with fingers and thumb. "Carrying out our dare," he told her, a little too calmly.

"But we—"

"Relax." As he spoke that one, quiet word he shortened the space between them and suddenly his face was extremely near to hers. Stunned, unable to think or act, Sam didn't do anything. He was about to kiss her…! But in the last moment his lips swerved round and planted themselves on her other cheek—and the firm peck was purposely loud.

"You cheat!" exclaimed Daniel, his disappointment evident.

And yet it had felt wonderful.

"Hey," said Jack calmly, "you dared me to kiss her and I kissed her. What's wrong with that?" He hadn't removed the arm from her shoulders, and she knew she would miss it when he did.

"I dared you _both_ to kiss," Daniel clarified, frowning.

Sam jumped in. "So you did." Quickly, in a touch that was barely eligible, she leaned forward and brushed her own lips against Jack's rough cheek… but didn't dare to meet his eyes which she knew were watching her closely. "Satisfied?"

"Sure." Daniel heavily sighed and waved a hand, knowing he was defeated.

"Tsk, tsk. Twenty-three languages and you can't even make your instructions clear enough," Jack teased. "But, then again, looking at all those beers…"

"Whatever," yawned Daniel, stretching. "I think it's time for bed."

"Indeed," Teal'c agreed, and finally looked away from the TV screen. "I too must now take rest."

"Killjoys," muttered Jack under his breath. He was so close Sam could almost feel the words forming in his throat. "Fine. Go use the bathroom before Carter hogs it for the night."

As Daniel scrambled to his feet and left the room, Teal'c switched off the television, following him, and Sam turned her gaze sideways to Jack with an indignant look in her eyes.

"I do not hog the bathroom, sir."

"That right? It certainly provided a strong enough incentive for Danny boy to shift his ass."

She smiled, every moment becoming more aware of just how heavy his arm felt where it was draped over her shoulders. She flushed guiltily. Just a short moment ago, as Jack had pecked her on the cheek, she'd felt hollow and disappointed. She had _wanted _him to kiss her. And she hadn't cared about Daniel and Teal'c watching, either. The knowledge of this showed somewhere in the intensity of his eyes. Dark brown eyes, only inches away, searching her own. God, she hadn't been this close to him in a non-tragic situation for a long stretch of time. All at once she felt nervous, afraid and strangely excited. But no… this was wrong.

"I'm—I'm feeling tired, too, sir," she stammered, knowing she needed to pull back and away from his warm side in her drunken haze, but unable to. Jack, however, who had seemed completely at ease, winced at that last comment.

"Carter," he began with a slight frown, "I was wondering if we could lay off the ranks and formalities this week. Just for a week, while we're off duty. Make things more friendly."

Was that such a good idea, she asked herself? Allowing him to call her Sam? But then, come morning he probably wouldn't remember his request anyway. "Yeah, 'course."

He smiled widely and finally removed the arm from its perch. "So, _Samantha_." He paused for emphasis, and shuffled back a bit to give her some space. "You like it here?"

"The shorter version of _Sam_ isn't a formality, Jonathan," she countered pleasantly. His face crinkled up at the referral to his full Christian name.

"Touché," he muttered.

Sam beamed, before her face softened and she said, "I do like it here, s—I mean, well… Jack. I'm glad I came."

"Good. I'm glad you came, too, and I'm glad you're glad you came."

Giggling, she stood up, spontaneously offering her CO a hand, and instructed, "Come on, _sir_. Let's get into bed now." Wow, that technically sounded quite bad, didn't it?

"Hey," said Jack. He reached up and allowed her to haul him to his feet. "Don't encourage me."

Although she should have retorted to that, she didn't. Even though their minds were misted with alcohol, even though they were talking in harmless words intended as jest, there was still a serious meaning in there somewhere—and Sam didn't want to mock their feelings by implying that her only attraction to him was through a certain sexual desire. Fair enough, it was there, but it was definitely not the only reason she wanted him in that way. Quite the contrary, in fact.

Jack was regarding the mess on the floor with the same caution he showed when meeting with an alien species for the first time. He sighed, and waved a dramatic hand at the buried carpet. "The practical side of me is telling me to clean this up now, minus the hangover."

"You want some help?"

Shaking his head, he gave her a small nudge towards the doorway. "Trying to earn some brownie points, Carter?" he quipped, and grinned at the glare she shot him.

"No formalities means no 'Carter's, as well as 'General's, 'Colonel's and 'Sir's," she scolded quietly. "It's Sam."

"Sam," corrected Jack with a smile. "I think we'll let Danny boy sleep in the trash tonight. The old spacemonkey deserves some punishment after that dare."

She stopped outside the spare bedroom in the hallway. "Your living room will smell," she pointed out, and Jack seemed to consider this.

"It's worth it," he decided finally.

An unconscious smile was brought to her lips as she planted the image of him standing there firmly in her mind forever. He looked so… well, cute, and she never thought she'd be describing a fifty-odd year old in that way. His hair was all tousled, and his cheeks were flushed a slight shade of red. Adding that to his dopy grin and the loose sweatpants and faded T-shirt he was donned in, Jack O'Neill seemed such a different man to the set officer she was used to, in SGC fatigues with a pen twiddling between fingers. She shook her head. Where had that come from? The past year was only a portion of their total number of years working together. The Jack before that, and one, she knew, they both missed, was clad in BDUs with a P-90 clasped roughly in one hand. When they'd been Colonel and Major.

Just then, Daniel emerged from the bathroom. He was swaying very slightly and his glasses had been knocked askew.

"Jack? That you?"

Jack rolled his eyes at Sam and said, "I keep forgetting how it's best to restrict Daniel's beer." He moved forward and took the other man's arm. "All right, let's get you on that couch…" Smirking at Sam, he added, "Get in that bathroom while you've got the chance."

Assuming Teal'c was in the kitchen, she needed no second prompting. She came out again a short while later, teeth brushed, face washed and bladder empty, to find Jack leaning against the wall staring at his watch with raised eyebrows.

"Sir," she spurred, curiously. He shot her a look. "Um… Jack," she amended, kicking herself.

"Not bad," remarked Jack, nodding. "Five minutes. It's a record."

It was her turn to roll her eyes. "Don't be so stereotypical. Come tomorrow and it'll be you hogging that bathroom!"

Wincing, he lowered his arm and moved past her. "Probably," he agreed grimly, and gestured to the back room. "Danny and Teal'c—all settled. Most likely flat out already."

"Good."

"Sooo… you gonna sleep well?"

"Yeah, should do," she said. "I slept like a log last night."

"Well, Sam, I did give you the comfiest bed."

She gave him a warm smile and started to retreat down the hall. "Good night, then… Jack."

"Yes," he returned in a friendly voice, "good night. And don't let the bed bugs bite."

She laughed softly as he closed the bathroom door, and the smile subsisted as she slipped into his cosy spare bedroom and flopped onto the big double bed. When they had arrived yesterday afternoon Jack had insisted she took the spare room, whilst Teal'c and Daniel slept on the sofas—because she was the 'lady', apparently, which Sam had snorted at, knowing he was joking. After all, she'd spent as much time trying to get to sleep on rough terrain in a cramped tent as any of them. But Daniel and Teal'c didn't seem to mind, so who was she to complain? And the General—Jack—was right: it was definitely a comfy bed. A small and drowsy sigh of contentment escaped her lips and she found herself closing her eyes before her head had even settled against the pillow.

The loneliness and grief that had suffocated her since her father had died was slowly but surely slipping away. And Jack, as well as Daniel and Teal'c, was playing a significant part in her returning happiness.

* * *

Crap. Headache. Heaviness. Hard to wake up. The three 'H's could only mean one thing… a hangover.

Unfortunately disorientation didn't fit into such convenient alliteration. But someone was shaking his shoulder gently with a hand that felt comfortably warm. It was too bad, because all he really wanted to do was keep sleeping.

"Sir." A familiar voice, but it sounded distant and misted. "_Sir_!" Okay, so it wasn't going to leave him in peace. What, were the aliens attacking or something?

"Whaddayawan'?" he groaned, and rolled over to bury his face in the pillow.

An amused laugh sounded from above him—damn, he really was awake now—and the cursed hand that had disturbed his blissful and oblivious-to-plain slumber disappeared. For some reason, he missed its warmth.

"It's past midday, sir," said Sam and teasingly pulled his covers down to his waist. "Thought you might like to get up."

"Hey!" Jack flung out an arm, groped around and wrenched them back up to his neck, recovering his bare back. That was funny… he distinctly remembered wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt last night. For a split second, panic froze his mind—before he squinted out from the hideout of the pillow to see Carter fully dressed, and he realised that he himself was at least still clad in boxers. Huh, must have been too hot, that's all. "I hope you're not trying to take advantage of me here, Carter!"

"As if I would sir," she smiled. Sir? Some recollection of the previous night returned to him. He frowned slightly, although maybe that was from the pounding of his head.

"Hey," he mumbled, "what happened to informality?"

For a split second there was a pause. He was about to peek out and glimpse her when she said, sounding amused, "Just testing to see how much you remember from last night, Jack."

"Oh, I remember." Yup, he remembered the feeling when she had first called him 'Jack', all right. And had Daniel really dared them to kiss? Son of a…!

Jack turned over again and opened his eyes to blurred vision. The curtains were open and the bright light blinded his pupils. Rubbing them, he groaned again… and then looked up as his nostrils detected… coffee?

"My wonderful Samantha Carter," he said in a worshipping tone. "You didn't?"

Her smile widened as she stepped back from the bed and pointed to the windowsill, on which a large steaming mug of coffee awaited.

"Yeah, I did," she told him calmly. "But I'm afraid you're gonna have to get up for it, first."

He turned a pleading gaze upon her but she merely grinned and walked out, saying, "Breakfast's in ten. If you hurry, you can beat Daniel to your shower."

Talk about effective prompting. At that Jack crawled out of bed, rubbed his face, and made for the coffee. Like a blind man directed to a noise, he mused, taking the first glorious, hot sip. Then he called loudly, "I hope it's not you making it, Carter—I don't wanna have to rebuild this cabin if it burns down."

There was no answer to that, so he presumed she hadn't heard him. After gulping down half of his coffee Jack went into the bathroom to get showered. He entered the kitchen ten minutes' later to find Teal'c sitting alone and reading one of Jack's astronomy books, legs propped up and feet crossed on an opposite chair.

Jack collapsed into a spare seat. He buried his face in his arms. "T," he murmured, groaning, "be thankful you _didn't_ become a drinker after you lost junior."

Looking up from the page, Teal'c quite smugly said, "Colonel Carter instructed me to speak the words 'good morning, sleepyhead' upon your entrance, O'Neill." The jaffa began to read again. "And I am indeed thankful I do not consume alcoholic substances."

"Where is she?" slurred Jack tiredly.

"I believe she is attempting for the second time to rouse Daniel Jackson."

"Ah." Sitting up, Jack ran a hand through his damp grey hair. "So, who's making breakfast?"

Right on cue the toaster jerked noisily and two slices popped up. For a sleepy and incredulous second, Jack stared. Then he scowled at Teal'c.

"Toast?" he said in disbelief.

"Indeed."

"I was hoping for something a little more interesting, seeing as though I was bribed out of bed by the very _idea_ of breakfast."

"Clearly your idea was wrong," observed Teal'c as Sam walked in.

"Sorry, sir, but we kind of only picked up the essentials on the way here yesterday. So unless you want to starve for the rest of the week, we'll need to go shopping later."

This informality thing was harder than he'd anticipated.

Waving a dismissive hand, he said, "I'll take one of you to the store later." His knuckles flopped back onto the table with hard impact. "Ow."

"Besides," Sam began conversationally, "you have no confidence in my abilities anyway. No confidence, no product."

"Oh, I have every confidence in your abilities." With a supporting hand clamped to his forehead he sat up. "You have saved our lives before now, Sam." Smiling inwardly, because he knew she was glowering at his genuine praise, he added with a poker-face, "And then I have to suffer your ability to make me swoon every single day."

Sam dropped her knife with a clatter, smearing jelly over the counter, and Teal'c glanced up from Jack's book to raise his classic eyebrow; whereas Jack merely smiled easily.

"Kidding," he teased, but was in truth fully aware by the flush of Sam's cheeks that she knew the slight truth to his words. It was funny how well they seemed to be getting along these past couple of days. All these small jokes and hints towards their feelings for each other were distinctly easy to make, especially in front of Daniel and Teal'c—not that he enjoyed embarrassing her, or anything—and it was almost like things were out in the open now. Accepted. "The only confidence I lack," he continued lightly, "is in your cooking skills."

She plonked the plate of toast in front of him and, recovered from her embarrassment, prodded his shoulder in a physical telling-off.

"Have you ever even eaten anything I've cooked before?" she asked, mock-irritably.

Jack picked up a slice and inspected it closely. Looked okay, he decided, and took a bite. "You've actually cooked a meal successfully?" he countered, rocking back on his chair as he started to chew.

"Yes. As a matter of fact, I have."

"Jeez. Talk about miracles."

"Okay, seeing as though you're unconvinced, I'll prove it." She folded her arms defiantly and he warily looked up at her face. "I'll cook you all something tonight."

Grinning, Jack nodded, before wincing again as his head gave another painful throb. With great timing Sam placed two small paracetamol capsules on the smooth surface beside his plate, as well as a glass of water, which, smiling his thanks, he gratefully took.

"How come you managed to evade the hangover this morning?" he queried curiously, after downing the tablets. "You drank just as much as I did."

Sam shrugged and sat down next to him, fingers curled around a hot mug. "I guess I'm just a woman."

"And aren't men supposed to be able to handle more than women?" he smirked, earning himself a poignant, defiant look that reminded him strongly of their first meeting.

"_I'm an Air Force officer just like you are, Colonel. And just because my reproductive organs are on the inside instead of the outside, doesn't mean I can't handle whatever you can handle."_

"_Oh, this has nothing to do with you being a woman. I like women. I've just got a little problem with scientists."_

"_Colonel, I logged over a hundred hours in enemy airspace during the Gulf War. Is that tough enough for you? Or are we going to have to arm wrestle?"_

"Yes," drawled Jack, and pulled a piece of toast apart as he recalled the memory with a sense of fondness that only ever sprang up when it concerned a member of his team, "we never did have that arm wrestle, did we?"

Not that it really mattered. They'd done everything besides. Saved the world, rescued other worlds, made allies, flown the X-302, blown up a sun, fought replicators, travelled back in time, determined deadly foods in the commissary, gone fishing… oh, well, there was one thing they hadn't done together. Very suddenly Jack coughed—Sam looked at him, strangely—but he was saved when a rather dishevelled Daniel trailed through the door and slumped heavily onto a chair.

Woah. And Jack had thought _he_ had looked bad this morning.

* * *

Author's Note: I know I promised ship, but I had to split the chapter into two—it kind of extended itself a little bit :) —which is a good thing because it means chapter 8 will be available very soon. Please review!


	8. The Ochalet

**Author's Note**: Before I went to Wales (hence the unforeseen delay, sorry!) I was reading the news on Gateworld and happened to stumble across a (hopefully new) season nine character called 'Khalek'. Just to clarify the obvious, this is not the 'Kalek' in my story. The name for my Hetorian governor came solely from my mind. Whether or not I subconsciously thought of the existing 'Khalek', I don't know, but I can assure you it wasn't intentional. If this is a huge problem (?), I can change the name to avoid confusion.

* * *

**Chapter 8 – The Ochalet**

"Is something bothering you, Jack?"

General O'Neill stopped in his tracks. Surprisingly enough as the days had progressed and the hours they were spending in one another's company had increased, Sam had become incredibly suited to calling him by his first name only. The occasional slip-up still occurred, but after eight years of referring to him as 'Sir', 'Colonel' or 'General', this was to be expected, especially from someone as dedicated to the Air Force as Colonel Sam Carter. It was something that made Jack swell with happiness inside. But he had to admit that it still caught him off guard a little at times. Like now, for example, when he'd been deep in thought.

"You just seem a bit… distracted."

Jack glanced at her where she stood at his side. She appeared relaxed and healthy, and he had a feeling that the past few days away from the dark underground of the SGC really had done her mind and spirit the world of good. Yesterday the weather had taken a rather chillier turn than was common for the spring season. As a result of this she was now wrapped up in a long, elegant and black coat, the wind whipping the short, feathery strands of her blonde hair casually around her pink-tinged face. It sounded a typical thing for a man with feelings for a good-looking woman to say—it probably even bordered on pathetic—but Jack thought the scenery around them was bland compared to the image of her today, so peaceful and unwounded.

"Jack," prompted Sam. A small frown line appeared between her eyebrows.

Lips curling into a small smile at her usual attentiveness, Jack started walking again. "Yeah, there's something. Kinda, anyway." Suddenly his coat pocket felt accusingly heavy, reminding him of the task he should have done and dusted weeks ago. He'd also begun to wonder whether the woods was the best place for this after all. He'd been relieved when Daniel and Teal'c had rejected Sam's suggestion of a stroll—if he was honest, he had a feeling Daniel was trying to give he and Sam as much personal time together as he could without making anything look too suspicious. The quiet walk outdoors had provided the perfect opportunity. Only, now, the problem was just getting on with giving the letter to her.

"Are you going to tell me what?" she questioned quietly, looking out at the picturesque landscape as they approached a huge gap in the trees on the edge of the cliff. The mountains and surrounding moat of forests became a customary sight in this spot of Minnesota.

Jack considered the best answer for the time being, and settled with, "When I figure out what I'm going to say, yeah."

"Right." They carried on walking. She wouldn't push him now, he knew—because he could be as stubborn as he liked sometimes, in which case he wouldn't budge. Instead they slipped into another companionable silence. The thuds of their footsteps and the surrounding nature echoed in the trees around them, cocooning them in their own little world. He felt like he could say anything he liked to her out here, without there being consequences; it was merely the starting part that seemed so difficult.

After a long while Sam did something that surprised Jack completely and reached for his hand where it swung idly down by his hip. Cool, feminine fingers wrapped around his own. Jack stopped his long stride once again, and despite that the simple touch was friendly and encouraging—harmless—he frowned at her. For a brief moment they simply stood, attached but apart. Resembling their current relationship.

Almost warningly, he acknowledged her with a low, "Carter…," surpassing her first name only because he knew they needed to keep at least a vague check on reality. No matter what it _felt_ like out here in the middle of nowhere, there _were_ consequences to disallowed actions: it was the only damn thing that was stopping him from swooping down and kissing her right there in the midst of the woods.

"Sir," she responded. That one small word told him that she agreed with his thoughts.

"I—uh…" He glanced down at their joined hands, as entwined as their lives.

"There's something on my mind, too." Wanly, awkwardly, Sam attempted to smile. Jack knew what she'd been thinking about before she even tried to explain. "Actually… it's been on my mind for a while."

"It has?" _Damn it, O'Neill, this is so not the time…!_

"Things have changed between us," she stated quietly. "Since my dad died, I mean. Or, maybe… maybe since I split up with Pete, I don't know."

He gave a slow nod. "It's… less tense. More friendly."

"Yeah," Sam admitted, and let go of his hand to wander a short distance away. "Better than it's ever been." Following her misted gaze, he nodded again unconsciously. "But I—I still don't think I can go on… pretending," she continued quietly. "Not any more."

"Sam—" Jack interjected, and stamped forward on the dry ground to grip her arm gently. He needed to stop this right now. Too many emotions weren't good when he was about to add more to the brew. "We can talk about this another time. Some place else."

She faced him and sighed, dejected and miserable; but he was relieved to see that no tears shimmered in her bright blue eyes. Nevertheless, for a moment he was sorry he'd halted the train of out-loud thoughts, so needing to be spoken.

"I have something I need to give you," he told her calmly.

"Me?"

The curiosity in her voice was bound to be there, it was only natural, but it didn't prevent the inward wince that released the dread in his heart. Instead of replying vocally, Jack merely guided her to a clean, dry, grassy verge. A narrow stream trickled at its edge and the water tinkled over pebbles like the mellow, musical sound of a piccolo. They automatically sat down, and, reluctantly, he slipped his hand into his warm coat pocket to pull out the item belonging to her.

"Your dad—he gave me this before he passed away," he explained quietly, handing her a large white envelope. "It's for you."

During his Air Force training—a long time ago now—Jack had been taught to focus on the subject's eyes for reactions. Sam's had widened, and she was visibly swallowing as she took it in her hands and turned it over in her fingers.

"You can wait till we get back to the cabin, if you want," Jack suggested, feeling strangely like he was intruding on a private moment. "Or I can go away for a little while…?"

There was no answer—she was simply staring at the dense white paper as though she was drawn to it magnetically, like she couldn't look away—and he assumed this was an affirmative. He began to get to his feet when she reached out and grabbed his sleeve.

"Stay," she said thickly. "Please, Jack."

Nodding, he settled down by her side again—he leaned back on his elbows in the grass, knees arced in front of his body. With one tentative finger Sam traced the seal of the envelope that had 'Sam' scrawled across the front in her father's tall, slanting writing. She inhaled a deep breath, before slowly easing it open.

As she pulled out a folded piece of paper the envelope dropped from her hands like a stone. Literally. There was something solid in there, Jack knew—he'd felt it digging into his pocket as they'd walked here. But he doubted it was the first thing she really wanted to inspect right now. The letter Jacob had written was stretched like a cotton garment in a wrack between forefingers and thumbs as her eyes first scanned over the words. And still he watched as she began to read his writing properly.

Anxiety was exhibited in every contour of her slender face. But lying there in silence, Jack was infinitely surprised as the worry and dread soon began to melt away to show a weary relief instead. At times, the corners of her mouth would twitch in the tiniest of smiles, and she would shake her head in what seemed to be disbelief. Finally, she looked up, a distant look on her face.

Jack cocked his head slightly. "Hey," he said, softly getting her attention. She met his eyes. "You okay?"

Sam nodded and gave him a swift but genuine smile. He regarded her cautiously.

"You're not about to—to burst into tears, or… anything?"

But Jack found himself blinking in even greater surprise. Who would have thought it? She was now laughing loudly, disturbing the silence! And when he sat up so he faced her he only prompted further chortles. Afraid that his 2IC was losing it completely, he leaned forward and held her shoulders, shaking her.

"Sam, snap out of it!" he commanded with confusion, looking at her incredulously as she choked. "What the hell is so funny?"

"I'm sorry!" She swiped away the moisture in her eyes. "I'm sorry, Jack… it's just, I must have been acting like such a baby lately." Calming to chuckles, she held on to his elbows and shook her head. "Is this why it's taken so long for you to give this to me? Because you were scared of seeing me cry again?"

"Something like that, yeah." He failed to see why this was funny. "I didn't want to hurt you more."

"Oh, Jack, I'm sorry," she said, the smile fading. "I've been so sensitive—"

"It's okay."

"No, really… the number of times I've cried, I…" The sentence ended abruptly with a sharp sigh. "I think I'm getting better now. Thanks to you… this week."

Jack nodded shortly. "Not a problem, Sam."

"I guess I really lost it for a minute back there," she observed a little sheepishly.

"Ya think?" replied Jack dryly. "Pray tell. What was so hilarious?"

She shrugged, and fingered the letter still clasped in her fingers. "Honestly, I don't know. Maybe all my emotions just had a huge relapse…"

"Definitely huge," he agreed with raised eyebrows.

Whilst relaxing again on the soft grass, the slackened hold on her arm lingered, and he squeezed gently as the discarded envelope caught his eye.

"So what did dad have to say?" he enquired very lowly. It was a personal question—one that, before this week, he would never have dreamed of asking—but he had a feeling that she wouldn't mind him knowing. And when she smiled reassuringly at him, he assumed he'd been correct.

"Just a few words of wisdom," said Sam. "He says he's sorry for how screwed up our relationship became; how he wishes he'd seen me more when he was with the Tok'ra." She toyed with the corner of the paper. "That he loves me."

Jack nodded, and then pointed to the ground. "What's in the envelope?"

For a split second she looked confused. Then her eyes widened and her hand darted out to grab what she'd abandoned, and she dug inside, quickly sliding out a… well, actually, Jack didn't really recognise the chunky metallic mass to be anything he could name.

"I assume Jacob read the description before ordering?"

But Sam was inspecting it thoroughly, holding the object close to her face which held that familiar creased-up expression of deep concentration. His eyes flicked to her occupied hand. Jack supposed it looked rather lavishly like a piece of heavy jewellery. Fitting snugly into the cavern of her palm, it was a hunk of shiny silver metal that had been cut into a perfect oval shape, with strange and detailed indents creating significant-looking markings around its edges—ones that Daniel would undoubtedly be able to decipher. Its core had been left open, and at its centre loomed a smooth, round, amber-coloured stone. Orange and brown seemed to merge like juice in its solid depths.

"Huh," remarked Jack, craning his neck to get a better look, "didn't know your dad had such good taste."

"Why would he give me this?" puzzled Sam.

"Well, now you mention it, that brooch would look _dazzling_ with your dress blues."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Dad says it's called an Ochalet," she supplied informatively, glancing down at the letter as she rotated the peculiar object between finger and thumb-tip. "It's very rare, apparently."

"Ah!" responded Jack, and feigned disappointment. "Not a brooch, then, huh?"

Sam met his eyes and he could see the smile brimming behind them. But her interest in the Ochalet didn't wane.

"Does he tell you what's it's _for_?"

"Not specifically… only that it'll 'come in handy' and that I can use it to bend the Tok'ra to my will. And before that he says he won't go into details."

"Useful," Jack raised his eyebrows.

"Yeah. Maybe he wants me to re-strengthen the alliance with it," she mused outloud. After a few more minutes of pondering she placed it carefully back into the envelope; she refolded the letter and returned that, too, then gazed at Jack and smiled at him.

"What?" he said. "Toy not complex enough?"

"I'll get Daniel to take a look later," she said softly. "Thanks for—"

"Aggghh!" He cut her off by swiping a hand through the air. "What did I say about 'thank you's?"

"That was on my dad's behalf," Sam insisted.

"You know, I've spent sleepless nights over that letter. I can't believe you actually laughed when you read it."

She reached over and covered his hand with hers, and he watched as she played gently with his thumb. It was sweet, he thought, but confusing that she suddenly seemed so shy—like she was trying to hide in the collar of her coat. But he'd learnt over the past week to disguise the awkwardness with humour, so without considering it twice he jumped up and leapt forward to smother her in a big bear hug. Huh, lately he really had given her more hugs than deemed appropriate for the regulations… but who cared right now? He had her chuckling.

After seconds of rocking her dramatically he let himself fall back into the grass with Sam practically on top of him. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, cuddling her into his side, and thoroughly enjoyed that she was still grinning.

"What was that for?"

"Being you," he replied.

"I'm enjoying this," she conversed gently. "Having this easy… friendship, with you. A little too much, perhaps."

Well, Jack could agree with that. I mean, when had he ever pounced on Teal'c for an affectionate embrace in the grass? But he sensed a change in her mood, and kept quiet. He really, really wasn't ready for this conversation. If he was honest with himself, he didn't want to spoil _this_—something he'd only really begun to appreciate.

Sam sighed tiredly. "What are we doing, Jack?"

Jack shrugged. "Acting on our friendship?" But the small snort she gave agreed with his Teal'c theory.

"Friends," she murmured, and sounded unhappy.

"Yeah."

"You know, my dad said something else in that letter." Her voice was suddenly a whisper; she was looking into his eyes. Jack couldn't look away, but at the same time the smart side of his brain was sending overflowing wavelengths of alarm to his conscious mind and telling him to shift his ass right now. And God help him, but she was so damn _close_ now. Close enough to—

"It was almost like he knew I wasn't going to marry Pete," she ploughed on, calm, firm and determined.

"Sam," he mumbled quietly, clenching his eyelids shut, "what does this—?"

She moved a hand to his shoulder. "He told me not to be alone, Jack."

Warning bells were ringing in every corner of his active mind. But no matter how much he wanted to ignore them, and despite that he knew he could very well do so without a great deal of difficulty, he was aware that if he did, everything would be ruined, and therefore if anything he needed to enhance their messages. Which he did… He thought about their careers and everything that was at stake if they gave in to their raging feelings. At the harsh realisation that he needed to pull away his heart gave a painful tug.

But Sam's gaze was so desperate, so pleading, that he couldn't just roll away and get up with the incredible sense of nonchalance he needed to summon, or the hard mask he needed to meld on his face. Instead, his hand drifted through the air like a raft on a river and touched her face gently—brushing the hair back from her temples and tucking it tenderly behind delicate, heating ears. Fingers traced her jaw lightly. The touch was unusually intimate for them. It was also why he sensed, rather than felt, the small shiver that ran through her—and also why he pulled back before the savoured closeness escalated.

He lay beside her, though, trying to maintain the barrier between them—but at the same time, delighting in the fact that if they each surrendered in this everlasting inward battle, she was willing to be his.

Unfortunately that could not happen today.

Jack quickly evaded her eyes, chewed his lip and sat up. "We should head back," he stated reasonably, and even he could detect the flatness of his voice. Disguising his emotion. "It's gonna get dark soon. Danny and Teal'c will start wondering."

He pushed himself up to his feet with his bad knees creaking in protest, not before hearing the frustrated sigh behind him—but didn't turn around. Life was damn unfair at the best of times. It was just getting harder and harder to cope with.

* * *

"Hey," Jack said to announce his presence, poking his head round the living room door. "We're back."

"Finally," added Daniel. He stretched and got up from the sofa. "We're starving."

"Oh. Yeah. Sorry, Daniel." Entering and closing the door behind him, he sank into the big squashy armchair, slinging his coat over the back of it and closing his eyes. "To tell you the truth, I'm not that peckish. But you and Teal'c go ahead and grab a bite… wherever T is."

"Outside on the deck. Where's Sam?"

The General didn't look up. "Went to bed," he shrugged.

"This early?"

"Yeah."

Daniel sat down again. "Is she all right?"

"What?" Raking a hand through his silver grey hair, he straightened up a bit. "Oh, yeah, she's fine—just tired, she said." Although he had the distinct feeling that this wasn't the case.

"That's strange… for her, anyway."

"A little."

"Jack," frowned Daniel, "don't tell me you argued."

"No," he immediately denied, knowing how uncomfortable he looked; knowing how uncomfortable he _felt_. "'Course not... it wasn't like that."

"Then… what happened?"

Jack twiddled with his fingers, flexing his lips with an air of awkwardness he could not banish. But it was a conversation too many past a time when he could make a nonchalant joke of his feelings for Sam Carter; to Daniel, in particular.

"I think," he confessed, "we're both starting to feel the strain."

"Of staying friends?" Daniel asked sympathetically. Jack nodded, and his friend smiled slightly. "Well, it's not really new. You mean the strain's become more _noticeable_?"

Silently, he nodded again.

"Did you kiss?" It was a blunt, direct question. Jack looked up sharply.

"God, Daniel, no! Carter would never—" Breaking off, he scrubbed a hand over his face in confusion, and sighed as he realised he wasn't sure how true that stilted statement had been following he and Sam's exchange in the woods. She really had come across to him as though she wanted to change things.

"Ah," the archaeologist mouthed.

Feeling like a caged animal inside his own mind, Jack stood up and crossed to the window.

"And what about you? Would you?"

"I—" Jack rubbed his eyes. "It's getting harder. Put it that way. And I'm beginning to think whether inviting her here was a good idea."

"That's called avoiding the problem," Daniel pointed out. "Prolonging it."

"It's so damn frustrating," growled the General, pacing over the carpet. "She wants to talk about things, it's obvious. But I dunno if I do. I don't know if I can face that."

"Well, I think you should try." Daniel stood and moved to the door, but paused. "Talking is one thing you _can_ do. I'll be back in a minute. You sure you don't want something to eat?"

"Nah," sighed Jack. "Think I'll go to bed, too."

Food was the last thing on his mind when he still craved the unknown taste of Sam on his lips.

* * *

The following morning, Sam was the first to wake. Well, so she assumed. The spare bedroom Jack had insisted she took was right next to the kitchen, and as there was no banging and clanging sounding through the wall, it was likely that everyone else was still asleep. She sighed. It had been a restless night. On one hand, she wanted to get up now and go for a walk before anyone else got up, and on the other, she dreaded seeing Jack. But Sam was a sensible person; she couldn't very well stay in bed all day.

Fumbling for her watch on the bedside cabinet, she saw it was just past six. He usually rose at about seven. God, this was so stupid… and it was all her fault. Even she didn't know what her intentions were, yet there she had been flaunting her desires to her commanding officer where they'd been alone in the woods.

_He told me not to be alone, Jack._

What a great way to start a difficult conversation. It had earned nothing but a chaste touch that had caused shame to flare up among other more expected feelings.

What was more, the tension that had plagued them for several years now had blossomed afresh on their way back to the cabin last night, but in full force; they hadn't spoken a word to one another. That upset her more than anything. It was why she'd made some pitiful excuse about being tired so she could escape to the privacy of this room.

Deciding that she hadn't come here to pine, but to confront, she forced herself to get out of bed, grab her towel and robe and cross the hall to the bathroom. She pushed open the door and—

—oh, shit.

"Agggghhh! SAM!" Jack had been pulling down his boxers and they pooled around his ankles as he flung his hand out to grab a towel instead.

"Oh, God, sir, I'm sorry," she stammered. She backed out, slamming the door shut.

A moment's silence followed.

"It's okay!" called Jack, then. The door opened again to reveal him standing there with a fluffy white towel wrapped securely around his waist. "I'm all covered!"

"I—really didn't know you were in there," she muttered, flushing crimson and avoiding his eyes. There was an awkward pause. "Sorry."

But when he spoke next, there was a familiar playful drawl to his voice. "You know, Sam, if you wanted to share my shower with me, all you had to do was ask…" He was grinning.

She folded her arms. "I do no—"

"Must've forgotten to flick the lock across," added Jack less teasingly. "My fault. No harm done, Carter."

But Sam's cheeks sizzled. Forcing an apologetic smile, she turned away, and rolled her eyes at how typically ironic the situation had been. In an effort to avoid him, she'd stumbled in on him _naked_ instead.

"Sam?"

"Yeah?" She spun around; tried to focus on his dark brown eyes instead of his bare, smooth chest.

"We're okay now?" asked Jack tentatively.

It wasn't over, by a long shot, but she nodded. "Yeah," she replied, softly, "we're okay."


	9. A Long Delayed Conversation

**Author's Note**: Special mention goes to littlemaccyd, who's reviewed every chapter so far (you're a star!), but thank you to anyone who's taken time to review at least once! You guys are fabulous. :)

* * *

**Chapter Nine – A Long Delayed Conversation**

Even though the bathroom incident could in respects be classed as an ice-breaker, the tension throughout the day gradually resurfaced. Sam found this both upsetting and irritating. She couldn't understand why things had gotten awkward again, when all they'd been doing was sitting on the deck outside with Daniel and Teal'c. But perhaps therein lay the problem. It was _all_ they'd been doing. What they needed to do was something they'd prolonged for a long time: find half an hour alone together, sit down with a drink in hand, and just _talk_ about their feelings. In Sam's mind it was the only way they were going to move past this uncomfortable, can't-be-sat-next-to-each-other stage of their friendship, and despite the regulations she wanted to make her desires known. If Jack responded negatively, then that was that: at least he would know. Unfortunately, though, he showed absolutely no signs of wanting to discuss the topic that had easily evaded their conversation for the past six or so years.

"Well, that's good news, anyway," the man in her thoughts announced, closing his cell phone with a snap as he came into the kitchen.

Sam looked around from where she was chopping vegetables up for tonight's meal (since she'd first cooked for them all, Jack had decided that she wasn't as bad as he'd originally thought, and had encouraged her make their dinner more often).

Daniel asked, "What's good news?"

"The Hetorians have agreed to relocation, at least temporarily. SG-3 returned from the planet half an hour ago." With a smile, Jack added, "They must have taken to them more than you guys."

"Well, that's great!" said Daniel enthusiastically. "When do we start?"

"Relocating? Next week. SG-3 have arranged a Monday meeting with the Hetorian government, myself and SG-1. I think they want to meet the man they're trusting, and the people who'll be in charge of relocating them."

"Hopefully Kalek won't be there," Daniel frowned, and straightened his glasses as he bent down to open the fridge door.

"SG-1?" Sam checked sceptically, but to her surprise Jack winced.

"SG-1," he repeated slowly, "minus its leader."

For long seconds, she stared; the knife she'd been using hung limply in her idle hand. She only half-noticed as Daniel grabbed a drink from the fridge and slipped silently from the room. "What?" she said incredulously, frowning.

"I told you I wanted you to take some leave, Sam," he said calmly. "That hasn't changed. Danny and T can handle things just fine, you don't have to worry."

"Sir," she objected, feeling oddly singled out, "I was under the impression that all of SG-1 would be on leave… not just me."

"It's no big deal, Carter." It was his moment to frown.

"Yes, actually, it is," she argued.

"Oh?"

"If SG-1 are on active duty, I should be going with you to Hetora, sir. I am part of the team." She knew she sounded bold, but at the moment didn't care, having never wanted this grievance leave in the first place.

"You won't miss much," shrugged General O'Neill, leaning on the back of a sturdy chair. "Boring, _non-scientific_ negotiations on relocation matters? The only ones who really need to go are Daniel and I."

"So Teal'c's just going along for the fun of it?"

"Carter…" he said warningly.

"General, with all due respect," Sam could feel her face heating in anger she herself didn't understand, "there is nothing wrong with me."

"Physically, maybe!"

"How do you know?" she countered vehemently.

The tension that had steadily climbed the scale throughout the day was beginning to climax. But Jack passed her a look of—almost disgusted—disbelief. "Is that a joke?"

"I feel," she responded, forcing her voice to remain calm, "I feel I should be going back to work now, sir."

"I've already told you, ignoring it will make things worse. You need some downtime to let things settle."

Calmness diminishing in the space of a heartbeat, her defiance roared up. "Oh, so that's why you requested SG-1 remained on active duty after Daniel ascended?"

A heavy silence leaked its way into the room like a dark cloud; it hung for several tense seconds before Jack spoke again serenely, "Daniel wasn't dead."

"We didn't know that, then!" she fired up. "At the time, though, we knew he was _gone_!"

Jack's patience was swept away. "You're pushing a fine line here, Carter!"

"Well maybe it's about time I did!" Sam shouted. "You were the one ignoring things then, sir… how can you possibly lecture me, now?"

"Because I am your commanding officer!"

"So much for informality…!"

"All right, that's it, stop it right there!" His eyes became dark and hard. "I wanted to forget ranks this week to make things more friendly," yelled Jack, "but seeing as though you're having trouble remembering I'm your CO, which is in fact the truth, maybe we should be using them after all!"

Sam lost every sense of things which ought to be hidden and a feeling of desperation overpowered her head. "Forget?" she repeated incredulously. "How could I possibly forget, Jack, when I think about our situation every single day?"

The familiar features of his face contorted. "Our situation?"

With that she whipped around—slamming against the hard counter—so she didn't have to face him. The sharp knife in her loosened grasp accidentally sliced across her left palm. Instantly, hissing, she dropped the blade like a scorching hot coal and twisted the tap to run her hand beneath cool water. Jack seemed oblivious as he continued, "There is no 'situation', Carter! You need to get a major grip on reality!

"The grip on reality is what makes things this difficult!" she insisted fiercely through gritted teeth.

"Nothing's difficult," Jack denied, pushing the chair so it banged against the wooden floor for emphasis. "I don't know what's got into you."

Taking a deep breath, she turned round again, leaving the tap water to run freely as she did, and steadily lifted her eyes to his. "I can't lie by agreeing with you there," she said quietly.

"Then don't!"

"Fine!" she snapped.

"I think that's 'fine, _sir_'."

"You know, I only came here because I wanted to get things out in the open and talk properly—figure things out! But you're so… every time I try… you change the damn subject." Her throat constricted slightly. "Every time!"

"That's because maybe I don't want to, Carter!" said Jack, and to Sam's ears he sounded so uncaring. "Jeez, I'm not a hormonal teenager—my feelings for you aren't that important!"

The kitchen's air tightened and froze into splintering ice—ice that stabbed and trapped the breath in her lungs. Stricken, blue eyes met those of dark brown in a fierce gaze that was wrapped up in shock and hurt. They stood there only for a few moments, Sam registering the implications of his harsh, rash words, but the scene rolled into a stretch of tense, sharp eternity. Her cut hand stung, although compared to Jack's bold statement the pain was nil. Perhaps in a realisation of some of the hurt he had caused her, he made to justify his words.

"Carter, that… that came out wrong," he mumbled. It was only because he looked down that he noticed for the first time her injured hand. Crimson blood oozed from the long, deep cut in her palm and ran in streams of red down her fingers. "Your hand!" he exclaimed, frowning and raising his arm to point a little.

He began to move closer. Sam, however, chose the moment to storm from the room and through the cabin to the bathroom, uncaring as to whether or not he followed with the undoubted intentions to make things up to her.

Quietly, she closed and locked the door, an action which was misleading regarding the churning turmoil in body, heart and mind. A hot, angry flush had crept up her neck and face and the adrenaline pounding through her was unbearable. She didn't cry—something that later on would surprise her. Instead she automatically forced her hand under the cold, clear water merging with scarlet blood in the sink.

A short knock sounded on the door, but she ignored his presence. The wooden frame was only the physical barrier she was prepared to slam down between them tonight.

"Sam?" The General's voice was muffled. "Can I come in?"

No answer. Silence was the best punishment.

"Look," he began hesitantly, regretfully, "I know what that must have sounded like. It wasn't what I meant. Even so… I'm sorry, Carter."

Rarely had Sam ever borne witness to a sincere Jack O'Neill apology. Usually he employed the attitude that what was done was done, and people should be punished without being given the chance to say sorry.

"Sam, please. Let me in."

As if daring him to make his request an order, Sam waited a while before resigning, too exhausted to stand her ground on a plane whereon she could never be victorious seeing as though they were in Jack's own cabin away from home, and she slowly undid the bathroom lock. Avoidance would be futile, that much was logical.

He entered with profound wariness as she slumped onto the toilet seat, head rested in her good hand whilst the other lay uselessly in the sink.

Silently, but deftly, Jack opened a cabinet, pulling out an old white and green First Aid kit, and came to kneel before her where she sat giving no indication that she neither wanted him there or hated him for it. With absolute tenderness he lifted Sam's bloody hand and held it in his own, pressing a thick clean cloth into her palm to stop the flow of blood loss. He steadily looked up to meet her eyes. She was unable to escape from him now, and gazed back, helpless, hurt and so wanted.

And for a while there were no more words. Once the blood had clotted, the larger hands set to work wiping the cut gently using antiseptic cream, covering it with a soft cotton pad, and winding a bandage around her hand, again and again. The careful ministrations were calming and though her skin was sore and throbbing, they felt nice. So nice that when his touch vanished a wild panic tore a plea from her throat.

"Don't stop," she begged desperately.

Jack looked up in surprise and confusion. It was as though he wasn't sure what to do for her. Then with infinite care and gentleness, he placed his hands atop of her injury. His index finger probed lightly and she sucked in a breath at the pressure.

"It hurts," he stated for her blandly.

She watched as his fingers travelled to her wrist, feeling their caresses. "It hurts," she admitted breathily.

"Forgive me?"

Sam glanced at him and sighed, and her good hand moved to his shoulder. "I can't blame you, Jack," she mumbled, numbly, "not for speaking the truth."

"Sam…" He didn't stop touching her; his caresses found the sensitive area beneath her elbow, while the opposite hand brushed the top of knuckles. Small shivers of pleasure threatened to let loose. "What I meant back there… I was trying to say that our—our feelings in the grand scheme of things aren't important—not as important as defending this country, this planet. Don't interpret it the wrong way and think they're not important to _me_, because they are. Damn them, but they are."

She nodded quickly. It was the first time (excepting the Za'tarc incident) he'd ever directly and vocally acknowledged his feelings.

"I'm sorry too. I don't think either of us was thinking properly just then," she said very softly. "I—it's just frustrating. All I want to do is get on with life." It occurred to her that she hadn't been clear whether she was referring to her attraction to him or to her father's death—and realised both were true of the statement. Jack, however, appeared to have chosen the latter.

"It's only 'cause I care, that I'm so determined for you to get away from work," he said. "You know that, don't you?"

Again she nodded, "Yeah."

Jack hesitated, then ventured slowly, "Did you really only come here because you think we need to talk?" He sounded hurt.

"Sir, no! I'm such an idiot, I say such rash things when I'm angry."

"Hey, that makes two of us then."

"I came here," she confessed openly, "because I wanted to. I always have—every time you asked. I was just afraid to."

"Why?" he asked gently.

Exhaling a sharp, loud breath to exert tension, she closed her eyes, and reopened them to lose herself in the soft expression of his face. "I think you know," she murmured, and after a significant pause, added, "I think this would be a good opportunity to talk, whilst we're still away from the SGC."

Jack smiled awkwardly. "I guess we need to, don't we?"

"You just told me you didn't want to," accused Sam, not unkindly, but there was a touch of firmness to her voice too. "What's changed?"

"It's kinda been touch and go since last night…"

"It has been for the past eight years," she pointed out, giving a faint smile.

"Yeah, well," he stalled, and sighed as if he realised this was a time of finality. "I just don't want things to get awkward between us again, Sam," he said. She was sure she detected some hint of fear in his tone. "I think if—"

He was interrupted as Sam removed the hand from his shoulder, raising it to press an insistent finger to his open lips.

"Sam?" he said nervously. The name reverberated on her finger, and she briefly closed her eyes before cutting the contact and gripping the hand stroking her forearm.

"We can talk tomorrow," she explained, lightly. "We'll send Daniel and Teal'c away. Thinks won't get awkward, I swear."

But Jack was doubtful. "How do you know?" he said uncertainly.

"I know," said Sam, "because over the past few weeks I feel I've discovered the absolute value of your friendship. It's priceless, sir. I can't allow my greed to destroy that now."

"Greed? No, Sam, it's not—"

"The fact that I want more, then," she quietened him.

Very slowly, he nodded. And Sam wanted—needed—desperately to feel his touch, like she had at her dad's funeral. Throwing caution to the wind, saving other cares for the future in which they wouldn't do this, she guided his gentle hand to her cheek. The situation was almost a repeat of the previous evening. The warmth on her face felt wonderful and the places where she had his glorious touch tingled in mild, comforting pleasure. In the light strokes of his thumb against her cheekbone she hadn't noticed how much the space between them had suddenly decreased.

Only when she caught his warm breath on her lips did Sam reopen his eyes, to find his face inches away. God, these moments were becoming more and more frequent. And each time she treaded dangerously closer to the line whereat she would give in and kiss him. Temptation enflamed her every cell. Desire strained to obey natural calls. But they couldn't. Never had they disregarded regulations on a whim, and without at least discussing it first, neither was about to.

"Sam." Jack leaned into her and the toilet seat so she practically lay in his arms; his fingers left her face to curl around her neck and delve into the coarse strands of her hair.

"This is what I mean by difficult," she smiled sadly, palm flat against his chest and obscuring the slogan of his simple T-shirt. "There's nothing I want more."

For a fraction of a second the tip of his nose bumped hers.

"We should move, then," he whispered hoarsely, "or we'll end up starting something we'll both regret."

Sam hated herself when she nodded, hated that she had to agree, and the muscles in her chest clenched painfully. One kiss couldn't hurt, could it? And despite that he had been the ones to voice the dreaded words, he brushed his lips over her cheek, just once; her hands responsively tightened on his shoulders.

"Jack," said Sam pleadingly. But it didn't have the effect she needed. His light lips merely moved over her cheek to the soft spot beneath her ear. She could feel him trying to pull away, and so weaving every thread of resistance into one string, she said more firmly, "General."

The title spurred their separation, as she'd known it would. It kicked out the reminder that supplied the willpower.

She swallowed. "We can't let this happen. As much as I—as much as we—"

He kissed her cheek one last time, a firm, chaste kiss.

"—we can't."

"I know," he murmured, and without another word he extracted himself, stood, and left. Until tomorrow, his eyes had read. Until tomorrow, they would leave the difficult topic behind them.

* * *

"So…"

"So…"

"This is…"

"Hard," sighed Sam, staring into her red hot coffee. "I know."

As far away as they could manage on the low sofa, alone in the sitting room, they sat simply as hefty logs of wood burned in the open fire. Jack had created the flames more to create a warmer, cosier atmosphere than to protect them from the nippy climate outside, but the temperature was something of a comfort nonetheless.

Tomorrow had reached them, already. Too soon than he would have otherwise liked, really.

"Even when we force ourselves into this," she struggled to say, "even when we, ah, know it needs to be done—we still don't know where to begin."

He agreed with her there. But if this conversation was going to strike up at some point, she would have to be the one to choose the match. Not because he was selfish, only because she was better at this than he would ever be. And Sam undoubtedly realised this, because she exhaled sharply, though not in annoyance or anything of the sort, and placed her coffee mug on the surface of the table in front before twisting round to face him, head on. He wished he could do the same.

"What I was going to say, yesterday in the woods," she began carefully, "was that… I can't go on pretending I don't have feelings for you, Jack. After Pete, after giving everything to that relationship—because I did, you know, I wanted to make things work—well it showed that I can't be with someone else." Her hands fidgeted in her lap. "I'd be… too distracted by what I feel for you."

Jack nodded. "It wouldn't have been fair on him."

"No," she agreed, "it wouldn't have."

"But you're not pretending you don't have feelings," he pointed out slowly. "If you were pretending, we wouldn't be having this conversation." With an additional thought, he muttered, "Or trying to have this conversation," but she ignored these last words.

"I don't think I can pretend at the SGC, I mean. Not anymore. It's where we see each other the most."

"You've—_we've_—done it for eight years," said Jack.

She shook her head. "We've both agreed that things have changed now," she replied. "And maybe, I don't know, maybe it's just been too long a delay."

"So…" Jack shrugged helplessly, "what d'you wanna do about it?"

But she said softly, "What I want, and what's allowed, are two completely different things."

_Don't I know it?_ Jack wanted to add grimly. "But you're saying you can't work with me anymore?" he asked, watching her face intently.

"No," she answered immediately. "I can, but it'll be hard. What I'm saying is I don't know how _well_ I can work with you now."

"Don't worry," he drawled, and although the following words contradicted it his voice was devoid of any natural humour, "I can employ extra body guards if you think you'll pounce on me when I exit my office."

The joke was lame—even he knew, wholeheartedly, the stab at lightness was pathetic—but unfortunately it was Jack O'Neill's way of dealing with awkward emotion.

"I'm talking about feelings," Sam implored thickly. "It isn't nice to have a lack of happiness, Jack."

He immediately regretted it, and faltered, "Sam—I never meant…"

"That I'm attracted to you because I want sex?"

The reply slipped off her tongue so easily, coolly and collectedly that he was forced to blink a few times. His reassuring reply came eventually: "You know I would never imply that."

"I know," she sighed heavily.

Something unknown pushed up his insecurities, then; he tapped his fingertips on the pot mug which made a dull tinkling sound and disguised the silence somewhat. When he looked up, he blurted, "Why are you—?" but stopped as he panicked mentally. It was something he wasn't sure he _wanted_ to know.

Sam was frowning.

"I mean, I always wondered," he mumbled, plunging on, "why you were attracted to me. It's obvious why I… y'know, have feelings for you…"

"No, actually," said Sam, her frown deepening, "it isn't."

Jack's eyebrows shot up. "Excuse me?"

"To me, it isn't obvious."

"Sam, half of the base has a crush on you!"

She scooted just a little closer on the low, cord sofa. "I'm not interested in the rest of the base," she told him softly.

"Well, you're…" Okay, _now_ he was panicking. "Aside from the fact that you're hot…"

He coughed and Sam bit her lip. "That's it?" she asked with uncertainty.

"Of course not," he assured her more warmly; the words he was about to speak were nothing but genuine. "_You_ have a heart of gold, Samantha Carter. You'd do anything for anyone whether part of your team or no. You always want to do what's right, and when for whatever reason you can't, it upsets you. Example: when your jerk of a CO ordered you to leave that nuisance of a replicator guy behind and betray him. Ah! Let me finish." He wafted a hand airily as she opened her mouth to object. "You've saved me—hell, the whole planet—a hundred times or more not just with your amazing brain, but with determination, loyalty, God knows how much effort, and care for those you do and don't know. For that I respect you more than I respect… well, the President, for one. I respect you as much as Teal'c, how's that?"

Having realised he had twisted round on the sofa to face her, Jack found he could reach out and touch her knee lightly.

"You have unlimited enthusiasm towards anything which is an aspect that adds to your unique, and wonderful, personality. You laugh at my jokes and have a smile to die for: two things I'd have loved to see more often recently. Finally," he finished gently, watching her face, "you're just you, Sam. And it'd be cheesy for me to say you're perfect, 'cause no-one's perfect… but let's just say you're only a few meagre points below that standard. I think so, anyway. I can't explain why I have these… ah, feelings… for you… but after all I've just said—" He paused. "Well, it's pretty understandable, don't'cha think?"

Stunned, having never expected a long declaration, she looked down at the still hand resting on her knee and then back up to his eyes. They had become so familiar lately that she knew by heart how many lines were engraved in the curves of his sockets below. And then she smiled widely. "Wow," she remarked, moved and astounded all at once.

"Yeah," said Jack slowly, "I don't come across as the talkative type, do I?" His eyes became serious and the face lost its humour. "But all of it's true," he added, slightly gruffly.

"What," Sam smiled, "even the part about you being a jerk?"

"Yeah," he admitted in a quiet voice. "Even that."

"I don't think you're a jerk, sir," she said, and squeezed his hand briefly.

Frowning to himself, he argued gently, "You were angry with me," and he looked unhappy.

Feeling as though they were getting a little off topic, she shook her head and immediately corrected his belief. "No. I was _never_ angry with you. Never. You did what you had to and _you_ were right in a situation where both choices were wrong—to leave Fifth behind and to bring him with us. Both choices were right, too, because it was a no-win situation." She paused, then continued, "I know that. I know you did what you had to… just as I did what I had to."

He nodded carefully. "I appreciate you saying that, Sam," he thanked.

"And I," she said in return, "appreciate you recognising that I'm not perfect."

Jack, incredulous, raised his eyebrows sky-high. "I say a bunch of nice things about you and _that_'s the one you have to quote?"

But she smiled shyly, and wondered how to best convey her strange gratitude. "I think it's just… well, everybody as the SGC sees me as this huge brainiac female who can do no wrong…"

"Ah… _yeah_!"

She shook her head fiercely. "You don't know how disconcerting it is, because I _can_ do wrong. It's nice just to be recognised as a normal human being for once—one that isn't perfect."

"I… guess I can understand that."

"Anyway, I haven't wriggled away from your question," she muttered. She reached to the side and brought the coffee, no longer steaming, to her lips to take a small sip.

"Oh." Jack withdrew his hand from her knee to his. "Yeah. You know, I almost forgot."

"I doubt I can do as well as you, but…" She breathed in sharply. "I can't explain it either. All I know is that I've never, ever felt so strongly for anyone before. I've never had other feelings I've never been able to ignore."

"Sure you have," said Jack quietly, earning a confused glance. "Martouf?"

"They weren't my feelings," Sam corrected gently. "They were Jolinar's. I would've thought you understood that after Kanan." He winced, and she said quickly, "But this isn't the time to be getting into Tok'ra facts and experiences."

"No," he agreed. "It's not."

Staring at the carpet, she continued, "I think the first thing I really noticed about you was your sense of humour," and smiled reminiscently. "Some of those briefings with General Hammond were unbearable, you know… and I think you knew how funny I actually found you, didn't you?"

Eyebrows raised in innocence, Jack said, "Perhaps."

"Sometimes I couldn't believe your cheek." Still smiling, she caught his eye. "But I soon got used to it, that much is clear." There was a long, thoughtful pause. "I think the first time I really realised, though," she said seriously, "was during the armband experience… trapped behind that force field."

"Ah," he said uncomfortably.

"You wouldn't leave me."

Her words sparked a vivid but much older memory, one that had played over in his mind a hundred times but at the same time wanted to push itself into a dark corner and be forgotten.

_Sir, when you wouldn't leave me… are you sure there wasn't something else you're not admitting?_

A long time afterwards, and a long time ago now, he could have said they'd moved past that. Now, however, he assured her with, "I'd never leave you, Carter."

Sam twisted her hands together again. "Never?" she asked.

"I swear…" He swallowed, knowing that the words had been true for several years. "I swear I would never leave you behind. I… couldn't… leave you behind."

She nodded and allowed them to lapse into a peaceful silence, in which Jack got up to poke at the fire and shove another log in the flames. When he returned, the old sofa shifting slightly under his considerable weight, she rested her head on his shoulder.

Surprised to find that he hadn't stiffened, he squeezed her hand once.

She told him quietly, "I can't explain why I'm attracted to you, Jack. You're a remarkable man, and I suppose you don't choose the people you fall for. But despite the regulations… I'm glad it was you."

"Really?" he said in his softer tone. When she nodded shyly, he murmured, "Well, that's good enough for me."

"The only question left now is, what are we going to do?"

For the second time, he shrugged. "What are our options?" Although he had a rather distinct feeling that she'd played them over in her head a dozen times or more, just as he had.

"Number one…" She sighed and he smiled slightly, moved, at how much it was costing her to suggest this. "I leave the military."

"Nope," said Jack immediately. "Not gonna happen."

She looked like she'd expected this answer. "Why not?"

"You're in the prime of your already-successful career. You enjoy your job, you're good at it. You're one of the best we have. Fair enough, you have your science to fall back on but that wouldn't keep you in SG-1. And the SGC needs you and your experience as the team's leader."

"I knew you'd say that," she said wearily.

"You have to remember, Sam, that I've also got to bear in mind what's best for the programme, here."

"I know," she assured him. "And I understand that."

"Number one," Jack emphasised, "is _I_ retire."

Shaking her head, she said, "Sir, that isn't what's best for the programme. You're valuable, too."

"They can easily replace me," he pointed out.

"No-one out there has as much experience as you do, and you know it. Besides, if you ask me, you're not ready to retire just yet."

Jack lifted his hand to his head and ran his fingers through his hair thoughtfully. Frowning, feeling almost ashamed of what he was about to suggest and attempting it to put it forth in a way that implied he didn't approve, he ventured, "I take it you've considered going against the regulations?" Sam looked at him carefully. "You know… ignoring them?"

Perhaps she felt she was being tested. She sounded cautious, as she answered, "I didn't think you'd ever even consider that yourself."

"Consider, yes," said Jack. "Acting on it, no." Seemingly unable to stay away from her these days, he lightly touched her arm. "There's too much at stake."

"I know," she nodded, closing her eyes. "Our careers, importance, reputations…"

"It's not just that," he replied quietly. "It's rare, now, that I have to go into the field. But even remaining on the base, I'm supposed to value the lives of everyone under my command equally. If it was a choice between you and someone else, Sam, I'd already choose you. Think how much harder that would become if were in a fully-progressed relationship." He hesitated. "I don't think I'd be able to put duty over that, if we did go down that road."

The second nod confirmed his statements.

"There's also our dedication to the Air Force," Jack continued grimly. "In a way, we'd be having an affair, Sam, and I know you respect it just as much as I do."

"So," she smiled sadly, "we're still stuck, then?"

"For now," he answered, and was for a moment silent, before heaving a great sigh. "You can't tell anyone else this, but… I might be in for another promotion in a couple of months' time… Head of Homeworld Security."

Shocked, Sam's eyes widened. "Already?" she exclaimed. "You've only just been made Brigadier General!"

He shook his head slightly. "I wouldn't be moved up in rank, just position. Hammond told me—he's planning to retire and apparently I'd be the one they'd look to for the job. But nothing's official yet."

"You'd still be in the military," she observed sceptically.

"Yeah," agreed Jack, "so if we… you know, 'embarked on relationship', it'd still be frowned upon. But because I wouldn't be your direct CO, it wouldn't be illegal."

"I wouldn't want you to leave the SGC."

"The SGC would still have me," he assured lightly. "I'd just be further away."

"Washington," said Sam, disapproving.

He squeezed her hand, crushing her fingers in his palm. "A long distance relationship would be more than we'd ever have if I stay at the SGC."

"I…" She swallowed. "I'd miss you, though. Being there, every day."

Watching her for a moment, and releasing her, he thought he'd never seen anyone look so inwardly confused. It seemed as though a secretive wrestling match was taking place between her conflicting feelings.

"Look…" Jack spoke firmly and reassuringly. "What I'm trying to say is, let's just wait a few more months and see if Hammond does decide to retire. If he does, we can talk about things again then. Just a few more months. All right?"

Sam smiled again weakly. "Sounds like a plan."

"Hey," he said gently, and she looked up at him with a masked expression. "We will end up happy. Okay?"

"I know," she murmured. "I hate myself for saying this, but… I think it'd be best to keep these next few months… formal… you know, no hugs, no in-depth conversations like this one… it'll be easier, that way."

"I thought my friendship was priceless?"

"It is," she insisted, strongly, "but just knowing it's there, knowing you care… it's enough for me… for now, anyway."

Knowing she was probably right—well, it was Carter, if not perfect, she was nearly always right—he agreed kindly, already absorbing the knowledge that a few months was actually a long time when you were waiting for something special. And this was something more special than Christmas for an excited child when it was still the end of September.

"And you wanna come to Hetora, next week?"

"Yeah," said Sam briskly, appearing, once again, defensive.

Sighing, he gave in. "Fine," he allowed. "If you're sure—if you think you've moved on now—you can come. But think hard and long about your state of mind, first, yes?"

"I promise, Jack," she said very softly. "Thank you."

"Good," remarked Jack gruffly. "Now, whadda ya say we go do the other thing we came here to do?"

When she raised her eyebrows, oblivious, he clucked his tongue in disappointment as he got to his feet. "Don't even tell me you don't know what I'm on about…"

"Jack, I don't know what you're on about," she smiled.

Grinning, he went to the window and pointed outside to the pond, their chairs still standing on the deck above the water.

"Time to go fishing, Carter!"

He heard a groan behind him as he made for the door, and smirked… but it quickly faded in the following seconds as his 2IC called, "Oh, and one more thing!"

Jack turned around and found she was stood facing him. A dirty smirk of her own spread across her slender cheeks.

"Just one?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

She began to walk past him in the doorway, and as she brushed his shoulder, commented, "Nice ass, sir!"

And then she was gone. Well, he supposed he should really be thankful. Although he'd half turned around when she'd opened the door to the bathroom yesterday morning, he'd been sure he'd still had his back to her. It was a blessing she hadn't seen anything more than his bare butt… or had she? His smile dropped in a heartbeat and, cheeks slightly reddened in a rare show of O'Neill embarrassment, he hurried after the one woman in life he would have to wait several months for.

And as he went to fetch the fishing lines—the bait, the hooks, the beer—the simple things in life which he enjoyed so much—he never suspected how eventful those several long months would actually turn out to be.

Nor how challenging.

* * *

Phew. Reviews for this one would be great… thanks. :)


	10. Unprepared

**Chapter Ten **–** Unprepared**

It had been two days since he'd seen her last, that was all. After learning of their visit to Hetora on Monday, today, SG-1 had opted to return to Colorado on the Friday morning; Daniel and Teal'c in one car, them in the other. Both tired, he and Sam hadn't said much to one another as he had dropped her off home in the evening and exchanged goodbyes, glum to be returning home after a week being casual in one another's company. Seeing her now, however, getting out of her red Volvo in the mountain's internal car park, he decided it already seemed too long ago. Back on base, the conversations they'd shared, calling her Sam and performing small friendly gestures such as holding her hand and hugging her seemed trivial and daring. It was unfair, really. These were such simple things that other close friends took for granted.

And so he stood leaning on the open door of his truck, just watching in silence. It wasn't like he'd been waiting for her to arrive, or anything; he'd simply noticed her drive beneath the barrier just as he'd finished parking up. But had it been anyone else's car, Jack knew he wouldn't have lingered. It wasn't even as though he was desperate to talk to her; for some reason he just wanted to see her. Evidently, though, he wasn't as conspicuously hidden as he'd thought… nor too far away for her to notice him.

She stopped when she became aware of his presence, hesitating at the other end of the car park, taking time to bundle her keys in her pocket. God, this was _so_ ridiculous. Slamming his truck door shut and locking it, he gave her a smile and a big wave as he began to cross the distance between them in long, easy strides, and was relieved when she waited by her car.

As he approached he could see she didn't look as nervous as he'd thought she'd be. But then, why would she be nervous?

"Carter!" he greeted like nothing had ever changed, as if they hadn't spent a week together in his cabin, as if they hadn't nearly kissed. But, she smiled.

"Hi, sir."

"Long time no see, huh?"

"What, the mountain?" asked Sam lightly, used to his sarcasm. "Yeah." They automatically started heading towards the familiar entrance elevator. "Can't say I've missed it, though," she added with another warm smile.

Jack nodded. "I'm glad to hear that," he said, and looked sideways at her. "All settled in back home, then?"

"Yep. Cassandra even offered to do my week's washing for me."

"Really? That's nice of her."

"Yeah," agreed Sam brightly. "It is."

"She's not pissed at you for leaving her alone for a week?"

"Actually…" She smirked. "I think she was pleased." When Jack raised his eyebrows enquiringly, she quickly explained, "New boyfriend."

"Ah! Got it!" There was brief pause as Jack swiped his card through the slot and the elevator doors opened. He punched the button for the floor of her lab. "You look well, Sam." And she did. This past week he'd watched the colour come back into her cheeks and her eyes lose their dark shadows—and here was the maximum effect of fishing-in-fresh-air treatment. Smiling, eager. She couldn't look healthier and he could tell she was ready to go right through that gate as soon as possible.

"I am, Jack," admitted Sam. "I wouldn't be here if I wasn't."

He held her sincere gaze. "So I guess from this point on we go back to 'sir's and 'Carter's?" he asked with a reluctant wince.

"It's for the best," she reminded him. "For now, at least."

"Yeah." Glancing down, he noticed that her hand was no longer bandaged. "Your hand okay?"

"My…? Oh!" She flipped it over to show him that the cut had scabbed over. It looked like someone had drawn a thick purple line down the centre of her palm. "It's fine."

Different images of their week spent together flashed in his mind. One of them stuck out to Jack and triggered an unusual show of curiosity. "By the way, while we were there, did you ever show Daniel that, uh… Octolato… thing… Oatlet…?" She raised her eyebrows in mild humour and he rotated his hand for help.

"Ochalet," Sam corrected, smiling again, and he screwed up his face.

"Whatever…"

"I'd actually forgotten all about it, but then looked in my coat pockets and… well…" Her hand suddenly appeared in front of him with the strange ornamental object sitting in her palm. The artificial light created a glint on the shiny amber stone. "I'll take it to Daniel before we go offworld."

"I _still_ think it's a brooch," he remarked dryly, looking down his nose at it before his eyes flicked back to Sam's fascinated face. "But, I'd put it away. Wouldn't want my 2IC to be branded a bad fashion freak."

Sam appeared taken aback. "Since when have I been interested in fashion?" she questioned, wrapping the Ochalet back in tissue and sticking it in her pocket.

"Oh, there's a difference between having a lack of interest in fashion and having bad taste in fashion, Carter."

"So which one are you?" she smirked. "Both?"

Mildly offended, Jack just shot her a weird and disbelieving look.

"Well, come on, sir," she teased. "You never did tell us where you got those bright yellow fishing shorts Teal'c found in the drawer."

His mouth was already open and prepared to form a snarky reply when the elevator doors swung to the sides and Siler joined them; instead Jack settled for folding his arms and scowling at Sam.

"Colonel, General," Siler said as way of greeting. "Good to have you back, sir. And the place hasn't been the same without—"

"Well, thanks, Siler!" winked Jack, unfolding his arms to smooth over the creases in his shirt. "I always knew I was—"

"—you, ma'am."

It was subtle, but, out of the corner of his scowling eye, he could see the grin tilting the corners of his 2IC's mouth upwards.

"Siler," ground out Jack through his teeth, pointing at the Sergeant mock-threateningly.

"Sorry, sir. Place hasn't been the same without you, either, General."

"Good!" Jack appraised more brightly. "I was almost disappointed."

The elevator gave a pang and the doors juddered open again. He swept his hand towards the space in front of him, ushering Sam out in a friendly, gentlemanly manner. "Carter, I'll see you later."

"Yes, sir," she said, the hint of a grin still in her face. "Bye, Sergeant."

"Colonel," acknowledged Siler.

"Oh, and Carter!" Jack called loudly, jamming his hand between the double doors to keep them prised open. She turned back around curiously. "Almost forgot. This is for you." He handed her a brown-papered envelope from his holder bag.

"Sir?" she asked, suspicious and slightly anxious as he shoved it into her hands.

But he shrank back into the confined space of the elevator. "Open it," he advised with a smile as the doors began sliding together. "I think you'll like!" Then he waved and her frowning face disappeared as the lift jolted into movement.

Jack chewed his cheek for a few moments, and then turned back to the lift's other occupant. "So," he said conversationally, "Siler! You know what the special is in the commissary today?"

Not that it mattered. For the first time in months, the General of the SGC was going off world.

* * *

"Good morning…"

Sam looked round from her desk and smiled warmly at Daniel entering her lab, kicking the door lightly shut behind him. His hands were buried deep in fatigue-pant pockets and an already-curious frown characterised his face as he glanced to where she sat.

"Daniel," she welcomed, leaning forward to move a pile of paperwork from the opposite desk chair so he could sit down. "Ready to go back to work?"

"Well, personally, I was never ready to leave," he admitted without accusation. "It was kind of a favour to Jack. You know, to make you stay away for a while."

She raised her eyebrows and gave a swift smile. "Thanks."

"So," said Daniel, placing a plastic cup of coffee on her desk and keeping the other for himself, "what I want to know… is are _you_ ready to go back to work?"

Taking a sip of coffee, cringing after a week of drinking tastier, more expensive substance, she pierced him with a hard and challenging stare. What was she to everyone at the moment, the fragile, unstable woman? "Do you think I'd be here if I wasn't?"

Shrugging, her friend lowered himself to the creaky swivel chair. "Anything's possible with you, Sam."

She didn't reply, but then again she didn't think her friend expected one.

"By the way," said Sam little sheepishly, "I wanted to apologise for the, um… argument I had with the, ah, the General—about going to Hetora, I mean. You shouldn't have had to hear it, Daniel, and we both knew we went a little over the top."

But Daniel, holding up a hand, brushed off her apology. "It was fine," he reassured her with a smooth smile. "If anything, Teal'c and I were glad you relieved the tension." He took another sip of coffee and leaned back in the flimsily-supported chair, watching her behind his glasses. "Am I right in thinking that you and Jack talked afterwards?"

Feeling awkward, she nodded once.

"Any decisions?" he probed hopefully. "Revelations I'd want to know about?"

She shook her head, saying, "No revelations, Daniel. There's something that might or might not happen in a few months and we agreed we'll re-discuss things then. In the meantime…" she sighed softly, "we carry on as normal."

It was a mark of their friendship that Daniel didn't ask what this "something" was; he knew that if she could, or wanted to share it, she would; but he would never push her. Pursing his lips, he nodded, and then spoke again kindly.

"If there's ever a time you want to talk, you know I'll always be here, don't you?"

Feeling very much comforted by his words she smiled and reached over to squeeze his arm in a gesture of thanks. "I do," she said. "And it's good to know."

There was a small pause and she gazed back down at the three photographs lay amidst a sea of paperwork, aware of Daniel's inquisitive eyes still focussed on her and her desk.

"What are you up to, anyway?" he enquired, and gave a marvellous fake yawn that didn't quite fool her.

"Well, I've only just arrived," Sam pointed out, and knowing he would inevitably find out and see them eventually, she scooped up the memorable pictures and passed them to him quite reluctantly. "Jack just gave me these."

Daniel, placing his coffee down, skimmed through them with a broad smile and then slowed his pace to inspect them more closely. She'd been delighted with the photos having realised their origin; even though the events told in the images had only taken place a week previous, their time spent together seemed a month ago or more.

"Looks to me like he's being suggestive," smirked Daniel as he held up the last picture, one of the two of she and Jack, predictably, but she just mock-glared at him and he didn't say anything more, just handed the selection back to her.

"Nice photos, aren't they? It was a good trip."

"Yeah. Don't tell Jack, but half of the time I actually enjoyed myself. Somehow I knew it wouldn't be Teal'c and I who were pressurised into fishing every sunlit hour of the day."

Sam grinned, not feeling in the slightest bit guilty that the other half of the time she and Jack had ignored the other two completely, and scanned her eyes over the photos once again.

One, the first she'd set eyes upon, was of SG-1: all four of them. Jack with a boyish grin, Daniel with a goofy smile and a wave, Teal'c with his lips curving slightly but still looking as sombre as always, she her with her own smile of pure happiness and enjoyment. She was simply glad that, for once, there was an image of all four of them out of uniform.

The other two… well, if she was honest, any stranger glimpsing the captured moments would be bound to assume that they were a couple. In one of the pair—and she remembered this moment clearly because the camera had ended up falling off the tree stump Jack had set it up on—she and Jack were sat side by side resting against the trunk of a tree. What made it intimate was his arm around her shoulders and her leaning into his side, heads very close together. They'd never had _that_ captured on camera before.

The third was her favourite; it showed them simply just having fun. She'd always been aware of his sense of humour—that awareness was unavoidable, having been around him for more than eight years—but before this fishing trip she'd never imagined just how _fun_ Jack could be when he was off duty. Even though it wasn't summer, even though the water was freezing cold, they had decided to test out the canoe which Jack hadn't used in years. Unlike the other two, Daniel had taken this one. She unconsciously beamed. Jack had been rocking it, so she'd splashed water in his face, which had prompted him to dive over to her side of the boat and grab her around the chest. Unfortunately, the uneven distribution of weight had caused the canoe to flip over and capsize, sending them both plunging into that ice cold pond. Daniel had seized this image for the camera right before it had tipped and it showed them knelt up on that vivid red canoe, laughing, entangled together in a loose and friendly embrace.

For anyone normal, this could have been considered highly dangerous. But they were SG-1 and had faced and suffered much worse than a quick dip in a pond of bone chilling water. A good warm shower (or two separate ones, she sternly reminded herself) and a huge mug of coffee had easily cured them of their shivers.

"Oh, Daniel," said Sam, suddenly remembering something else that was important, "I have something to show you."

"Besides photographs of you and Jack?"

She knew he was only joking, and didn't rise to the bait as she fished out the Ochalet from her coat pocket, which was hung on a peg on the wall, and silently passed it to him. Daniel carefully unwrapped it from the tissue with an air of excitement that Sam had seen a hundred times before and placed it down on the desk surface.

"Wow," he said. "What is it?"

"I know as much as you," she shrugged. "All I know is that it's called an Ochalet, whatever that means."

"I don't recognise the name," Daniel murmured as he looked over it closely, flipping it over to see if there was anything beneath. "Where's this come from?"

"My dad." When he glanced up at her, she explained, "He left an envelope with General O'Neill to give to me. This was in it."

"And… he doesn't say what it's for, or what it does?" questioned Daniel, puzzled.

She repeated the sentence her dad had written in the letter about using the object to bend the Tok'ra to her will, and he raised his eyebrows thoughtfully.

"You think he wants us to reform the alliance?"

"That's exactly what I thought," Sam nodded earnestly, "but I think we should get this whole Hetora business over with first before we show them this."

"Good point." Pinching her magnifying glass, he frowned as he scanned over the strange markings scored into the jagged silver edges. "Well, I don't recognise any of these markings. It's obviously some form of language but definitely not Ancient Egyptian, or Goa'uld…"

"Well, I wouldn't expect it to be Goa'uld," she smiled, "seeing as though my dad was Tok'ra."

"Another good point," Daniel said a second time, and was about to open his mouth to speak again when Harriman's voice was amplified through the speakers in Sam's lab.

"SG-1 and SG-3 to the briefing room. Repeat, SG-1 and SG-3 to the briefing room. This is not urgent. Repeat, not urgent."

Rolling his eyes, Daniel said, "Why does Walter always do the repeat thing?"

"Guess that'll be our briefing."

"Yeah." He wrapped the Ochalet up again and handed it back to Sam. "I'll take another look at this when I get back, but it's probably best if you keep it. You know how many things I've got in my office. It'll probably get lost or something."

Sam nodded. "Thanks, Daniel," she said, shoving it in the drawer before they left together.

* * *

"It's so damn good to be off world!" Jack exclaimed, picking his way down the steps. "Don't you agree, Lieutenant?"

Lieutenant Mannings of SG-3, sharp and direct as always, nodded stiffly beside him. "Yes, sir. Always good, sir."

They remained waiting on the bottom step as villagers all around peeked out from the windows and doors of their homes, and Jack grimaced at the water-clogged ground surrounding the dirty stone.

"Yeah, well," muttered Daniel under his breath, "you won't be saying that if Kalek's around."

"Sorry, Daniel, but he is…" Sam gestured with her P-90 towards a stony-faced figure approaching them. The Governor was wearing a long brown-furred coat and high spurred boots as if dressing for an occasion.

The archaeologist rolled his eyes. "Great."

"Easy, tiger," said Jack, a deep line settling between his brows.

"At least one good thing can be said about today's visit," Teal'c commented then, and Jack turned to face him inquisitively.

"What's that, T?"

"It isn't raining," guessed Sam grimly.

"Indeed."

Looking round at the muddy ground, the puddles and the dark ominous clouds above, Jack had a feeling his team had been right to complain about the climate. "It obviously has been, however," he needlessly observed.

It was then that Kalek, drawing his cloak around his lean body, reached them. Jack reluctantly moved forward and stuck out his hand, but his fingers twitched, curled and withdrew discreetly, when Kalek merely stared at the friendly gesture with obvious disgust.

"Yeah…" said Jack distractedly. "General Jack O'Neill, US Air Force. How do you do?"

But Kalek continued to stare at him with boredom and dislike mingling in his dark eyes. "You are the ruler of your planet," he stated flatly.

"Ahh, not quite," Jack smiled falsely, and turned around to look at Colonel Rhiley who commanded SG-3. "You didn't explain this to him, last time?"

"We did, sir," Rhiley informed him, exchanging a dark look with Mannings. "He's evidently forgotten."

"Well, I'm merely representing Earth. I don't rule it," he told Kalek clearly. "I command the SGC and make the decisions about what to do with planets like yours."

"Even though it is not your decision to make," replied Kalek snidely.

There was pause and Jack called almost feel the usually-patient Daniel yet again roll his eyes behind him.

"And you must be Kalek," he sighed at last and raised his eyebrows as he continued, "the cold, sinister governor who gave each of my teams only two minutes of his time, even when his planet and his people are in danger. Great to finally meet you!"

The Governor looked enraged and, turning sharply on his heel, swept away from the steps. "Come," he ordered harshly. Exchanging apprehensive looks with Colonel Rhiley, Jack gestured that they should follow.

* * *

"Well this is a joke!" remarked Jack. He jumped off from the table on which he'd been sitting and strode to a thatch window. He looked out, wincing when he saw that the rain had returned, and turned to his two teams with a face creased in irritation. "I'm sorry if I'm being crude, but leaving us here to wait while he fetches a few governors is acceptable. Leaving us waiting for _two damn hours_, however, is not!"

"Jack—" began Daniel as calmly as always.

"Daniel, don't even give me the 'other culture, different ways' crap! Kalek said he'd be a few moments, not a few hours!"

"I know," his friend replied swiftly, standing with his arms folded, "but this isn't a time for losing your temper."

"We're here to _help_ them," Jack said. "Have you happened to notice how ungrateful they seem?"

"We did tell you Kalek was a jerk, sir," said Sam. "It's probable he's doing this on purpose to aggravate you."

"But I have a right to be irked? Yes?" Jack looked at each one of them pointedly.

"Yes, sir."

"Yes, General."

"I too am annoyed, O'Neill."

"Thank you," he directed towards Teal'c. Settling on the unsteady straw table again, the General hugged his P-90 to his knees. The protesting clicking sound his gun made as it was shifted was a two-second distraction from the sudden, nearing noise that droned in on their ears.

All eight present, Jack and SG teams 1 and 3, froze.

Daniel's face was written in dread. "What was that?" he said tensely.

Very slowly, Jack looked up, and happened to meet Sam's widened and surprised blue eyes which were darkened behind her cap. They knew that sound all too well. His hand automatically tightened on the holder of his weapon.

And then it amplified again, a great, wind-gushing swoosh that left the ground quavering as the aircraft flew by. Jack didn't think twice; he shot out of the tent in time to watch a death glider swerve to the right in the spacious air overhead.

"Death gliders!" Teal'c gravely observed, scanning the skies. Jack had already noted that vision was limited due to the dense, low clouds.

"Crap, crap… triple _crap_!"

But despite his cursing Jack didn't feel any better. As Sam came to stand next to him, she wriggled her hat onto her head to secure it firmly in place. "Geb?"

"Doesn't matter," replied Jack briskly, soldier-mode kicking in. "We need to get these people outta here."

Colonel Rhiley immediately stepped forward. "General?"

"Rhiley, you and your team start rounding people up. Drag them out of their homes if you have to." He stabbed his finger at each of his people in gesticulation that matched his orders. "Carter, Teal'c, go dial home now!"

The directions he barked out had instant effect and the others disappeared in a flash. With Daniel beside him, Jack ran across the sloppy ground to the nearest house in sight. Rain instantly soaked through his garments as the death gliders soared above their heads. Two. So far. At least they wouldn't have to call the Hetorian equivalent of 911 for inexistent fire control.

"Jack, wait!" Daniel grabbed at his friend's arm but the General wrenched away from his grasp. "They might not have agreed to this… negotiations aren't complete! You could be jeopardi—"

"I am not gonna walk away and let these people die, Daniel!" he yelled fiercely over the rain. "Now help me!"

The unmistakable sound of glider firing filled their ears. At the other side of the village an explosion burst into life with brilliant, booming energy which instinctively told them that something had already been hit.

Jack allowed Daniel one more hard glare before he kicked the nearest door open without hesitation. Inside the house a man and a woman stood tied together and jumped, startled, as the dense wood slammed like thunder against the frame.

"Come on, folks, time to go," he demanded firmly.

More blows of destruction echoed in his ears. Screams could be heard from the unfortunate targeted site, on which the powerful fire had undoubtedly impacted bare soil and homes of thatch work. Jack stormed forward and the woman's eyes widened in fear.

"Come with us!" Jack ordered and reached out to pull the woman outside. "Both of you need to get away from here."

He urged them into Daniel's care and moved on to the neighbouring house. Vaguely through the distant screams he heard his friend offering swift and reassuring words and smiled gravely. One could always count on Daniel.

In house after house, consciously aware of the passing time, Jack persuaded families to evacuate their homes one by one whilst the gliders circled the village as menacingly as any fear-generating predator. The houses were finally empty which was when the radio crackled into life. Carter.

"Sir, wormhole established. Permission to—"

"JACK!"

He hadn't needed Daniel's shout of warning and yelled, "Get out of the way!"

People screamed and fled for the narrow spaces between houses. The mud square took a hit and the ground shuddered angrily with the harsh impact. Fire roared up in the thatch roofs of several homes and, feeding off the woven straw but fighting with the rain, the flames were dampened but after many minutes remained unquenched. Jack swept his assessing eyes over the scene and was grateful to find that nobody in his line of vision had been hurt. Stumbling slightly, one hand pressed against the side of a house, he clamped his thumb down on the 'send' button of his radio.

"Carter, no permission needed—get as many as you can through that gate this instant!"

"Its okay," Daniel was saying to the scattered group clearly. "Head towards the Stargate—the Ring. People will be there to help you!" He looked to Jack questioningly who nodded. "Okay, follow me."

The villagers instantly hustled forward in swarms and one young woman fell face flat in the mud as she ran past. Jack bent down to help her get back onto her feet in the few seconds that it took for the glider to return and decline to the side at full speed. He glimpsed her face. White, panicked, shocked. It was no wonder, really—they weren't used to attack… none of them were.

"Go!" he shouted to Daniel and the band of Hetorians, and pushed the woman forward encouragingly.

Either the Tok'ra intelligence was wrong, or Geb had deceived them. Either way, the conclusion was the same.

He _hated_ the Goa'uld.

* * *

Author's Note: Do I suck at "action"? Guess I'll find out, huh? I'm at college now, so my writing is probably going to become even more erratic than it recently has been (if such a thing is possible), but stick with me. Your reviews are fantastic and act as amazing boosts of motivation. Tell me what I'm doing right, and, in particular, what I'm doing wrong.


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